


Handmade Thieves

by lailannajacobs



Series: Thieving Hearts [1]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), Enemies to Friends, F/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 08:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19352935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lailannajacobs/pseuds/lailannajacobs
Summary: Reader unwittingly finds her way onto Asgard and has to deal with all the attention that follows being a mortal in the extravagant realm. To his surprise, Loki finds himself having just as much trouble if not more than reader in dealing with it.





	1. A Thief of Artifacts and a Thief of Crowns

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is Based on this request –> May I request a lil thingie where Loki and the reader are in Asgard (for whatever reason you want,) and reader gets a lot of “attention” (all kinds) because she’s a mortal and those are kinda rare to see? There’s a galla coming up and she’s like a magnet there as well. Loki doesn’t like it. (loki and reader don’t have a relationship yet. sorry if this is long and confusing!
> 
> However the particular scene only appears toward the end of the series. Hope you enjoy! <3

Walking down the cobblestone streets, you pulled up the hood of your sweatshirt to shield your face from view. Feeling helpless, it was the only thing you could think to do, even though you knew you stood out like a sore thumb in the Asgardian market anyways. It didn’t matter that the difference in physical appearance between these people and humans was almost nonexistent, one look at you and they’d know you were different. Intricately braided hair and long gowns clashed against your dark leather jacket that was thrown over a ratty sweatshirt and tucked into khaki coloured cargo pants.

Your ship had crashed somewhere in the tall, mountainous coast after an engine failure and despite being dazed and half scared to death, you had recognized, even in the distance, the rainbow coloured bridge. The sight alone had almost sent you to tears, but you hadn’t shed any tears at the crash and you hadn’t been about to start then, even if you wished you could have crashed in almost any other realm.

Mercifully, you hadn’t sustained any serious injuries, but your ratty old ship was a different story. For a couple hours, you had tried in vain to fix it but deep down you had known you needed a replacement part. There was no way you could make a quick escape to get off this planet unnoticed.

You tucked your grease covered hands into your pockets as if that was the reason you couldn’t blend in with the crowd around you. Despite keeping your eyes lowered, you could feel everyone’s gaze on you. It didn’t help slow your already racing heart. Just being here put your life in danger. Having everyone stare at you only decreased your odds of making it out alive. Already that your odds were slim to begin with. Even if it hadn’t been for the fact that you weren’t welcome due to your…occupation…finding pieces for a ship as old as yours was nearly impossible. The last spare part you had found two realms ago had been almost as used as the piece you had replaced it with. The Centaurian man who had sold it to you had assured you that it would make the journey back home, but the only place it had gotten you was marooned on Asgard.

Shop vendors refused to look at you as you made your way to the other end of the market and the crowd spread to give you a wide berth. Maybe you needed to take off the hoodie. You probably looked more threatening with it hiding what you really were, which was the least threatening species in the galaxies. But you left it on, unable to part with the one false sense of security you had.

You approached what looked like a scrap metal shop, hidden away from view in a far corner, probably due to the fact that it didn’t fit in with the rest of the beautifully decorated, dainty shops. As far as you could tell, there was no one behind the wide table that showcased an array of rusty trinkets, most of them worthless, even to someone with an ancient ship. It was safe to assume that the piece you needed was behind the black, tattered cloth where the merchant probably spent most of his time. Short of jumping over the table and probably scaring whoever was there half to death, you were going to have to wait - regardless of the fact that it made you feel like a sitting duck.

A looming presence paused beside you, almost brushing your shoulder it was so close. The scent of pine and and lemon replaced the smell of engine oil that had been following you around, and you knew whoever was beside you was a man who didn’t spend much of his time tinkering with these kinds of objects. A man who didn’t belong in front of a kiosk like this one. Picking up an old radio battery and inspecting it, you hoped he would leave if you didn’t engage. Despite a fight being the last thing you wanted, your heart began to thrum in anticipation as if it knew one was coming.

“I was sent to find the unidentified threat that had crash landed in the mountains.” The voice was cool and emotionless as if telling a story he already bored of. “Imagine my dismay when I discovered that I was hunting a Midgaridan intent on shopping.”

You practically dropped the battery at the word hunting but you forced yourself to take in a deep breath and slowly put it back on the table. It didn’t matter that you still didn’t have the piece. If someone was already hunting you, you needed to leave. Now.

“I wouldn’t suggest running, if that’s what you’re thinking. I can promise you that you will not get far.” Despite the warning, he almost sounded as if he wanted you to run - wanted you to make his life a little more interesting.

Without engaging, you peered into the shop, hoping to somehow make the owner magically appear. If the stranger only wanted you gone, then all you needed was your piece and you could be off the planet in a few hours. But you knew better than to try and explain your similar goals to the stranger though. Whatever he was sent here to do after he caught you wouldn’t be anything good.

“The owner is a little busy at the moment,” he said when he noticed where your gaze was at, “I made sure of that.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You didn’t want to think about what this stranger had done to the merchant. But if the owner wasn’t there then maybe you could hop over the table and escape through his shop. Your pounding heart felt like a million reminders a minute to get the hell out of there but you forced yourself to stop and think long enough to realize that not knowing what was on the other side of that curtain might be worse than trying to outrun him in the busy market.

You took a bounding step in the hopes to lose him, but he gripped your arm as if he had sensed what you were about to do, and spun you around to face him. “I’m sorry little Midgardian, but you can’t leave.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice as if he had been hoping for more of a challenge.

That was all right with you. You could change that. Pulling him toward you, you kneed him in the groin and, with his loosened grip, took off in the other direction. You only made it about five feet when he appeared in front of you. Whirling, you sprinted toward the small alley on the other side of the market but, once again, he blocked your path. You skidded to a stop just out of his reach and spun to find another exit but no matter where you looked, he was there, closing in until there were so many grinning images of him that they formed a circle a few feet out around you.

Your heart sunk in your chest and suddenly you realized that you had been doomed the moment you had crashed in the mountains. There was no mistaking who the Asgardian was who was hunting you. If you had thought crashing had been the worst part of your day, you were wrong. The second Prince of Asgard was much, much worse.

You crossed your arms and faked a confidence that had always come so naturally to you. It had gotten you out of terrible situations before and you were hoping that, despite the god in front of you, it would do the same here.

“The illusions are cute, Prince. How about I talk only to you instead. Make them disappear and I promise I won’t run, or hurt you.”

“Midgardian,” he clucked, “how naive of you to think you could hurt me.”

Bu the men faded until only one remained, his dark hair falling to his shoulder over a dark green and gold tunic. You stood, stunned for a moment. None of the rumours had exaggerated just how handsome the prince was. You hoped it was the only rumour that was true, but judging by the dangerous glint in his eyes, everything you had heard had to have at least some small kernel of truth in them.

You pulled off your hoodie to get a better look at the sharp cheek bones and the incredible green eyes of the predator in front of you. You hated that you weren’t repulsed by - were possibly even slightly attracted to - the person who would probably bring upon your doom. For that alone you wanted to smack him.

“You’re a woman.” He said with raised brows.

You glared back. “You don’t have to look so surprised.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Even if it’s pleasantly?”

“Especially then.” You growled.

He let out a little huff that may have been a laugh, “Pleasantries aside, we have other things to attend to.”

He grabbed your arm before you could even think to move and steered you down a small path you hadn’t noticed earlier. It took everything you had to comply rather than try and fight your way out, but you knew it would only make everything worse. Maybe if he suspected nothing from you, they’d let you go. But from what you could tell, the path you were on led toward the palace, and you figured nothing good awaited you there.

If you thought there had been eyes on you before, it was nothing compared to the ones boring into you now without shame. The scene you had caused meant that you were followed by whispers as he lead you down the middle of the street, parting the crowd like the red sea. No one wanted to be in his path yet everyone wanted to be close enough to see the pariah being led down the street.

You held every gaze, not daring to look down now that you weren’t hiding. Only after a few minutes of walking, people began to look away, almost frightened. You felt a smile tug at your lips but it didn’t last long. You weren’t that scary. Looking up at the prince, you saw a scowl plastered on his face, daring anyone to keep their eyes on you for longer than a second. There was a reason the crowd parted so easily; he looked like he was about to murder someone. Hopefully, that someone wasn’t you.

You tried to shrug him off as you approached the palace, if only to walk to your death with a little dignity, but he tightened his grip.

“I’m going to bruise if you keep holding on so tight.” You snarled, despite the fact that the pain in your arm was enough of a distraction to keep the nauseous fear at bay.

He probably thought you were going to try and escape, which only angered you more. If he thought you were stupid enough to try that, knowing the deadly rumours that surrounded him, he was sorely mistaken in underestimating you. The Prince was known for his cunning and his talent - a dangerous combination that you were smart enough not to cross. The only problem, was that your anger was getting in the way of you thinking clearly. Without thinking clearly, you were bound to do something incredibly stupid like yell at him or try to stab him with one of the three knives you had hidden on you before you had left your ship.

Thankfully his grip lessened before you could do any of those things.

Neither of you said anything as you made your way through the busy streets, the inevitable looming in the palace’s shadow. You refused to ask him any questions, knowing that if you did, he might get the impression that you were afraid of what was to come. And you were not afraid. Even if your palms were sweaty and your heart was racing, this wasn’t the first time death had knocked on your door. There had been closer calls on other planets and you had met much scarier things than the prince - though maybe nothing with as much attitude. You had escaped every other tough situation you had been in before now and you would get out of this one too. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. All you needed was the stupid piece and then you’d be on your merry way - hopefully in one piece.

“I’m not going to let you go.” The prince mentioned after you shoved him again when you tried to walk up the palace steps on your own.

“You’ve made that clear.”

Instead of trying to pull away from him you threw your elbow into his ribs.

He let out a small grunt but held you close and looked down at you with a smirk. It was almost more terrifying than if he would have been angry. And he barely seemed to have felt it, which only served to anger you more than it did him. Through gritted teeth, you kept walking, pulling him with you up the palace steps.

You tried your hardest to keep track of exit as you made your way through the winding halls, but the prince was now doing a good job at making sure an easy escape wouldn’t be in your cards. Blindfolding you would have been easier, but blindfolds were meant for the living. You took in a shaky breath. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything, that it didn’t mean they were planning on killing you, but the thoughts kept echoing over and over in your mind.

Massive golden doors loomed in the distance and you approached too quickly. You wanted to drag your heels, fight and claw your way out, but no matter how many different scenarios you ran through your head, they all ended worse than the last.

Suddenly, he pulled you into a small, secluded alcove you hadn’t noticed, your bodies practically smushed together. Your heart began to hammer in your chest and you wondered if he could feel it too - if that was exactly what he wanted. This close, you couldn’t reach for any of your knives before he could summon his magic. Here, you were completely at his mercy. Once again you wondered if that was exactly what he wanted.

Looking up into those wild eyes, you knew, rumour or not, how dangerous he could be. There was nothing safer than predictability and you saw none of that in those emerald pools. You would fight whatever was coming next, even if you had no clue what that would be.

He waited until two guards walked by and their steps receded. “Do you want to live Midgardian?” His midnight voice was a silky caress, echoing through your body.

You levelled his dangerous look with a glare of your own. If he was going to kill you, he had better not give you the chance to get a shot in first. Because you’d be damn sure that if he was taking you out, you’d bring him down with you out of spite alone.

The corner of his lips twitched upward, “You’re stubborn. Good. It will serve you well.” He placed a hand on the wall beside your head, boxing you in with his arm. “A word of advice Midgardian; the meek do not survive here.”

“Why help me?” You demanded, wary of the words coming from his silver tongue, but unable to look away from those intense green eyes.

He cocked his head. “Who says I’m helping you?”

He tried to push you out but you pushed back, pinning him to the wall with your forearm to his throat. “I’m smart enough to know that answering a question with a question is no answer at all.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your anger. “If you must know, if you survive, it will only anger dear old father, which, will not upset me in the slightest.”

You mulled over his words, “And if I die instead?”

He shrugged and tilted his head down so that he could whisper the answer, his breath tickling your ear, “Then you die. I’ve heard it’s what you Midgardians are good at anyways.”

You jerked back, but in the tight space, it wasn’t far enough. “Then why bother with me at all?”

His lips spread into a wide, cunning grin, that let you know that he knew so much more about what was to come than you ever could know, and dragged you into the throne room to where Odin sat, residing over a hall empty of any kind of life other than guards. Everything was a dark gold you assumed might have been meant to showcase the planet’s wealth in a comforting and homely way, but you felt none of that. To you, it only seemed cold and impersonal, not unlike the man sitting on the throne.

You approached the conqueror of realms and did your best to hold your head high. After having pinned his son to the wall seconds ago, standing straight wouldn’t be hard to do in comparison. You wouldn’t bow to Odin any more than you would bow to his son, or any man for that matter.

“Father,” The prince sneered, “This is the intruder Hiemdall saw enter Asgard through the mountains.”

“This is a Midgardian.” The king stated, as if the sentence alone earned the disdain dripping in his voice.

The prince shrugged, the perfect image of insouciant boredom, “Regardless, this is who broke in.”

The king’s eye narrowed on his son in distrust, “How is that even possible?”

“This,” You interrupted before he could answer, “is person, not a thing. And she can hear, understand and speak for herself thank you very much.”

The king pursed his lips and turned his attention toward you, finally acknowledging your presence. You were pretty sure he looked at gutter rats with more affection in his eyes than he did in at you in that moment.

“Why are you here Midgardian?”

“I can assure you that I really don’t want to be. My ship’s engine malfunction and - don’t ask me how - but I landed here. I went into the city for the missing part and I’ll leave as soon as my ship is up and running. I can be gone within minutes if you’ll supply me with a new ship.” You suggested, heeding the prince’s warning and trying to be bold.

“I do not appreciate being lied to.” Odin’s booming voice took you by surprise, causing you to grit your teeth.

You looked over your words but couldn’t find anything that wasn’t the truth, “And why would I be lying? I have the bruises to prove to you that the crash wasn’t planned.”

He raised a brow as if expecting the obvious answer that for some reason you couldn’t put your finger on, looking at you in the same way your seventh grade math teacher had during algebra. If he expected a different answer as to why you were here, he wold be throughly disappointed.

Odin sighed, “Do you really think I would believe the words of an intergalactic thief?” Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the prince’s head snap towards you, staring as if seeing you for the first time. “Did you truly think I would not recognize you?”

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t. And I’m not a thief.” You corrected. “I’m an archeologist.”

A sharp exhale sounded to your right but you ignored it. Now was not the time to see what the prince found so amusing.

You had always steered clear of Asgard, knowing that, despite their cache of incredible artifacts, Heimdall was the kind of security that wasn’t worth trifling with. The London Museum was content with everything else you brought back from smaller realms and although some would say you were stealing, the pay check and official title as their Intergalactic Archeologist made it hard to feel bad about what you did. Especially when most of the people you were stealing from, had stolen it from someone else initially. Despite not being a very reputed thief, you were infamous enough to avoid Asgard and other powerful planets. Unfortunately, it seemed that avoiding them hadn’t been enough to stop the king from realizing who you were.

“Again, I don’t seem to believe you Midgardian.”

“If you let me go back to earth I can get you one of my pay checks and bring you back proof.” You tried.

He let out a cruel laugh. “Never…” But he trailed off, lost in though for a moment. “But I could use someone with a standing on Midgard like yours.”

Panic gripped you by the throat and for a second it felt as if you couldn’t breath. Being trapped here - a prisoner - was worse than death. If you thought you were desperate to get off this planet before, you had no idea what it made you now.

“What makes you think I’ve got any sort of standing on Earth?” You blurted hoping he couldn’t tell how much his words had rattled you.

“She’s right,” the prince piped up. “Just look at the way she’s dressed. No person of any sort of standing would look like that.”

You resisted the urge to throw your elbow into his ribs again if only because he was helping your case, even if it was backhanded. It didn’t matter why he said it, all that mattered was that it could mean the world for you if you played along.

But Odin ignored his son, not even bothering with a glance in his direction. “You’re known among your people for travelling the realms, am I correct?”

“Only by a few.” You answered as vaguely as possible.

“And do those few have considerable wealth and standing?”

You knew it wouldn’t be wise to lie so you grit out the word “yes.”

The answer seems to satisfy him. “Good. Then you will stay on Asgard for a mortal year, acting as an ambassador to maintain good relations between our planets.

His words sent the world spinning and you would have collapsed if the prince hadn’t been holding you up. For the first time since you had crashed, the idea that you wouldn’t actually make it out alive truly settled and suddenly, you couldn’t breath. All you could manage was a whispered, “no.”

“It would be in your best interest Midgardian.”

You kept shaking your head, unsure of what else to do, “I just need my piece and I’ll go. You won’t ever see me again I promise.”

“You will get that piece after a year of service. The matter is final.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself looking up to the prince for help but he kept his gaze on his father, ignoring you just as Odin did him. He wouldn’t be any help. You doubted he could even if he had wanted to - not that he did - because, even if there weren’t many people who outranked him, his father was one of the few that did.

“You can’t do this.” You practically pleaded, hating how weak the words made you sound.

“You’ll see that I can.” The anger in Odin’s voice snapped you out of your bubbling panic, replacing it with anger.

You stood up straighter, no longer relying on the prince to hold you up. “And where’s my guarantee that you’ll keep up your end of the bargain?”

Odin glared, the look ferocious. “There will but none. You agree because death is your only other option.”

“You can’t kill me.” You snarled, but as soon as the words left your mouth you heard how untrue they were, even if by law, they were.

“A known thief was trespassing and was most likely attempting to steal priceless artifacts, using a false crash landing as cover for her crimes. No one would fault me for executing you. You cannot tell me what I can and cannot do.” He roared, the words resonating through the room as a clear warning to everyone in attendance. “If I chose to kill you, then I will do as I please.”

The prince’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on your arm and you clenched your jaw to keep from saying anything else. It wouldn’t be easy, but a year of service meant that you could still manage to find a spare part sooner, and you could make an early escape. All you needed to do was be cautious and bide your time. You’d find a way out. You always did.

“Escort her to the dungeon until we decide what exactly to do with her. Get her out of my sight.” The king said with a wave of his hand. 

The prince tried to pull you away but you shoved him off, “I can’t be a convincing ambassador if I’m locked up.” You protested.

“Guards, take her away.” The prince moved to lead you away but his father’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Loki, stay.”

Four armoured men surrounded you and, despite how much you hated yourself for it, your eyes were drawn to the prince’s for help. His eyes met yours, unfeeling and unyielding as he watched them pull you away.

“Oh and thief.” Odin’s voice rang out loud and clear, freezing the guards for a moment. “Trust me when I say I will know if you acquire anything that could be used to repair your ship. You’ll find the penalty for any sort of transgression is death.

You clenched your fists, chipped nails digging into your palms as you followed the guards down the gold halls and into the dungeon.


	2. A Gentleman's Agreement and a Devil's Bargain

At least they had given you a bed. The sight of it had confirmed your suspicions that you’d be here longer than any ambassador should be, but you had no way of knowing how long you would be a prisoner and how long you had already been one for. They had taken your watch and three daggers before shoving you into the clean, beige cell, barren of any furniture except for the bed, toilet and sink in the far corner. Not only would you be physically trapped in this cell but, without anything else to do, you were trapped with your thoughts, going over and over every decision that had led you to this prison.

There wasn’t much for distraction. Three out of the four walls were solid, the same beige as everything else in the damn cell, but the fourth - the one that faced the hall and the other cells - was some unearthly material that functioned like bulletproof glass yet acted like mesh. You would have admired the technology if it hadn’t let the putrid smell of the rest of the dungeon seep through into your own cell. You had gagged when they had first brought you in and the wall had shimmered shut. But without anything in the opposite cell to look at, you had quickly gotten over the novelty of the glass, and the fourth wall was just about as exciting as the three others.

You didn’t know if the smell or the boredom would get to you first. Picking at the grime under your nails, you figured it might possibly be the boredom. Maybe you would die of it before someone actually came to let you out. It almost seemed better than having to endure the smell for however long they would leave you here for.

Without anything better to do, your mind once again drifted to the past events, wondering what you could have done differently to have gotten out of this damn mess. Although you wanted to blame the prince for having caught you and brought you to Odin, you knew, deep down, that you should have been more careful when you bought that spare piece. And even if you hadn’t, you should have been more careful in the market. You should have waited until there were fewer people around - where the shadows could have hidden your presence. You should have been more patient. You should have pushed down the panic. You should have, you should have, you should have…

But no matter which scenario ran through your mind, the only people you blamed were the unreasonable king and his arrogant son. Because in your line of work, you were used to getting caught up in terrible messes; you just weren’t accustomed to the ones with so little hope. And they were the reason there was so little hope.

But despite that little fact, it was too easy to keeping deluding yourself into thinking that you were only in the dungeon long enough for them to prove how much power they held over you and your life. It seemed you kept relying on false hope to hold onto your sanity, and it scared you to think how easy it was to fall into the habit of believing you weren’t really a prisoner here.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall echoed outside of your cell, but you didn’t look up from your nails. You had seen six shift changes and were given four meals of stale bread and water since they had put you in here and you had forced yourself to stop looking up at them as if they could let you out. If they weren’t going to help out, you had to keep some sort of dignity alive.

“You seem to have made yourself comfortable.” That cool, bored voice drawled.

Your gaze slid up to take in the Prince of Mischief, leaning up against the wall of the empty cell across from yours, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t worth more than the side glance you gave him; he had done nothing to stop you from being trapped here. And you refused to admit that all of it was your fault, knowing it was so much easier to be angry at the smug and spoiled prince in front of you than yourself. It might not have been fair to him but he had tossed fair out the window the moment he used his magic to bring you in.

“You’re not very chatty are you?” He mentioned after the long pause when you didn’t say anything.

You narrowed your eyes at him in response, wondering why in the world he would even bother to come down here. Had he come to gloat? Did he have a message for you from the king? A small voice in the back of your mind piped up, wondering if he was here to let you out.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why I’m here?”

“No.” 

He raised a brow. “You must be. I’ve never seen anyone look so terribly bored in my life.”

You glared at him some more for good measure.

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps and when he faced you again, any sort of emotion you might have seen on his face had disappeared. His face was an emotionless mask as the guard walked by, nodded his greeting to the prince and continued on his way. It was only when the guard was out of earshot did the prince look like he was about to say something but shut his mouth. He shifted his weight, recrossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he observed you with that unnerving gaze.

You finally gave him your full attention, unable to take that look anymore, “Whatever you’re going to say, just get on with it. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than anything your father has said to me.”

“He’s not my father.” The prince snarled, his nostrils flaring in a slip of composure.

“No need to raise your hackles wolf,” You leaned back on your palms, enjoying the comforting feel of the bravado that had gotten you out of multiple situations before. “Getting you all ruffled up wasn’t the point. Only an interesting side bonus.”

His lips spread into a vicious grin, canines flashing. Wolf indeed, you thought. “How brave will you be, little Midgardian, if I take you out of your cage? Will your actions reflect your words?”

You shot him a dangerous grin of your own. “Let me out and I’ll show you.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Scared?” You taunted, itching for freedom or at least a fight.

He suddenly appeared before you and the only reason you didn’t flinch back in surprised was because you were already leaning far enough away. He was crouched so that he was at eye level, elbows on his knees and his hands forming a steeple under his chin. Looking into those flashing eyes, you knew that even if he appeared relaxed, he was a predator ready to spring at any moment.

He was nothing short of intimidating when he whispered. “Not in the slightest. But the real question is: are you?”

Despite holding that gaze in defiance, his closeness made it hard to think and you hesitated for a moment, trying to remember what you had asked him and what he was now asking you.

“Not even a little bit.” You finally said, punctuating your statement with a shove to his shoulder to throw him off balance.

The illusion shattered before it hit the ground and you let out a sigh, disappointed that he hadn’t actually taken the bait, yet thankful that you hadn’t actually been trapped in your cell with him. With him at a distance, you could now think clearly again and you took in another steadying breath.

“I’m not afraid of you or your little tricks.” You affirmed, reminding him of that fact almost as much as were yourself.

“You should be.” He murmured so low you almost missed it.

You lied back down, crossing your hands over your chest. “I’ve seen real monsters, wolf, I know when to be afraid.”

The prince didn’t say anything and stayed silent for so long you had to turn to see if he was still there. You began to wonder if you had been talking to an illusion the whole time when he said, “I have the power to let you out Midgardian.”

You kept as still as possible, trying to mask your giddy excitement, “King’s orders?”

“No.” his voice hit a low note, almost as if he was frustrated was trying to hide it. “Mine.”

You groaned, hope shattering with the words. The king’s word was worth something, no matter how much you hated the man. The prince however, you could only trust to betray you if given the chance.

You voiced your worries. “How do I know this isn’t some ploy to get me in trouble with the almighty Odin, simply for your own amusement? I’m sure you’re well aware that my life is on the line here.”

“I haven’t killed you yet Midgardian.” He pointed out in what was probably meant to be a reassuring way.

“That would have been a great point,” You scoffed, “If you hadn’t just added the probability of killing me at some other point in the future.”

He let out that huff in response you figured had to be amusement. However, he hadn’t denied that killing you was a possibility, which worried you all the more.

You wove your hands behind your head, still trying for nonchalance. “And what’s in it for you anyways?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to ask. And it shouldn’t matter… unless you’d rather stay in this cell? I suppose I was mistaken when I thought you were smarter than the average earthling.”

“Prince of Mischief,” you sat up and looked in him the eyes so he would know just how much you enjoyed being insulted. “If there’s anything I’ve heard about you, it’s that you don’t do anything other than for personal gain. You may not think it’s a smart choice to remain in this cell but it sure as hell is smarter than owing you an unknown favour. I don’t make deals with the devil. Now tell me what is it you want?”

This time, when you were met with that emotionless mask and stone cold silence, you knew it would remain that way. It seemed he didn’t appreciate being called the devil anymore than you appreciated being called stupid. But you weren’t about to let hurt feelings get in the way of your survival, even if it broke your heart to watch what might have been your only chance at freedom walk away.

You had heard too many deadly yet brilliant rumours concerning the legendary prince to trust the man everyone was so wary of. It didn’t matter that, if you really thought about, he had done nothing to earn your distrust, because you knew that anyone basing their decisions off of rumours would be right not to trust you either. And if they were right not to trust you, you had to believe you were right not to trust him.

But sitting alone in your cell with nothing to do once again, it became too easy to start doubting your decision. The only way you could know for sure that you had made the wrong decision was if you ended up dying in the cell and by then, there wouldn’t be much you could do about it anyways. The thought in no way comforted you but only succeeded in making your prison feel even smaller.

To ease the pressure from your chest, you told yourself that your situation could have been worse. Your cell was clean, dry and safe and although you were stuck and it reeked, you weren’t in any immediate danger. However, you couldn’t say the same for your ship, but you’d get to her soon. You had to keep believing that.

***

“Do all Midgardians drool that much when they sleep?” The female voice sounded horrified and disgusted, and too close for comfort.

Despite the fact that her voice had woken you, you kept your eyes shut and your breathing even. You hadn’t gotten many visitors since the prince had come by - you guessed somewhere around a week ago - but you had learned that ignoring the gawking guards and random nobles that happened to stroll by was the best way to keep your sanity in check.

“I don’t think it would appreciate you mentioning that fact.” A male voice mentioned.

“Does it really matter?” She sneered. “I heard they only live, like, a day.”

He laughed, “I don’t think Odin would keep it here if they did.”

You reminded yourself not to let your anger get the best of you and to keep your breathing even - not that you believed they were smart enough to notice something as small as your breathing. All they wanted was entertainment. And if you were as boring as a corpse, then they’d walk away. You could only hope they would do it before you snapped and did something stupid that would have them gawking at you for even longer.

If this was all you had to look forward to for the next year, you’d have no choice to find a faster way out. You’d go crazy before then if not and you were starting to think that it might not actually be the boredom that would kill you.

“I’d suggest you find entertainment elsewhere.” A familiar voice drawled, the warning in his voice clear. “The average Midgardian sleeps over twenty hours a day. You’ll find better use of your time elsewhere.”

“Pathetic.” The male voice spat after a beat of silence, almost causing you to break your act if only to roll your eyes. “Why waste our time here?”

The sound of footsteps receding let you know they had left but you didn’t move. It was as if you were acutely aware of the prince’s presence and somehow, you knew he hadn’t left with the others. Even if you doubted he actually believed you slept for twenty hours a day, you hoped he would believe you were asleep anyways and leave.

“You know Midgardian, I think all of Asgard will soon think you can barely get through a day without falling asleep, but I think it was an acceptable price to pay to get rid of those ignorant fools.”

You didn’t move. 

“You’d be surprised by what the clueless will believe. It can truly be amazing sometimes. You know Thor…” He let out a little huff of breath, stopping his sentence short. “Interesting that you’re much easier to talk to when you’re pretending to be asleep.”

When you still didn’t move he let out a loud, annoyed sigh, “You’ll have to try harder than that to fool someone like me, Midgardian.”

You groaned and pushed yourself up to a seat so that you were facing him, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. Like the last time he was here, he leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest with a bored look on his face. You wanted to get up, bang your fists against the glass and demand he let you out, but you remained seated. You wouldn’t let him see how much you were itching to move - to be free - just yet.

“If I’m not fooling you, then why don’t you make yourself useful and tell me something. When does Odin plan on letting me out?”

He shrugged, “I don’t get told these things. I’m not Thor.”

You pretended to ignore the venom lacing his last words, storing the bit of information away for later use. “Okay then. Why are you here wolf?”

“Why not? Court life isn’t all that entertaining I’ll have you know.” He looked so insouciant it was hard to believe he wasn’t actually here for a social call.

“And you came to me for entertainment.” You rolled your eyes. “That seems plausible.”

With a stretch, you got up and walked over to the edge of your cell so that you could see him better. How he had known you weren’t asleep, even from that distance, surprised and, you hated to even begrudgingly admit it, impressed you. You decide it had to be because Asgardian vision was better than the human one, and had you been on equal playing ground, you wouldn’t have been fooled either.

Watching, you waited for him to say something. He cocked his head and when you didn’t move or say anything else, he approached to a stand in the middle of the hallway, his stance wide and his hands clasped behind his back.

You could now see the humour lacing those narrowed, cunning eyes. “I don’t think you realize how unique someone like you is on Asgard.”

“Aw, so you came because I’m special?” You put a hand over your chest in mock flattery. “Oh right. But only on this planet though. Seems no one’s ever taught you how to compliment a woman before.”

The corner of his lips twitched upward, in a slight, crooked smirk. “At least you’re special somewhere Midgardian. However, if you must know, I do know, among other things, how to compliment a woman,” he paused for a moment in fake thought, “And you must be looking for entertainment, same as I am. Trapped here all by yourself. You must be getting so…lonely.”

You jutted up your chin, knowing it was the next best thing to actually being able to give him the right hook he deserved. “If you’re asking if I want company, I don’t.”

He chuckled, “I wouldn’t dare suggest that sort of thing.”

“That’s true.” You spat, crossing your arms to hide your clenched fists. “You don’t ask. You just do whatever it is you want, whenever you want.”

The memory of him crouched before you flashed through your mind and you had to wonder if he would try anything of the sort again. It also made you question if you were actually talking to the real prince.

“Don’t be angry little Midgardian because you cannot do the same.” He pointed out, the corner of his mouth lifting sightly higher into that wolfish grin. “It’s simply not fair.”

“It’s not fair that I’m locked in here for not having committed a single crime against your people.” You growled. “And I’m at the mercy of someone I don’t particularly trust so excuse me if I’m a bit rude and snappy.”

His eyes flashed and the smile dropped to a look you couldn’t quite identify, “That is the first smart thing you’ve said since we met.”

“That I’m snappy or that I don’t trust you?”

His eyes darkened and he took a step forward, hands still behind his back despite the deadly move, “That you don’t trust me.”

You cocked your head, intrigued by the look in his eyes, your anger mutating to curiosity. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, I don’t trust anyone in this realm.”

His jaw twitched and the darkness in his eyes receded at the slight movement, “Another smart comment. You might just make it out of this alive Midgardian.”

You hated the sound of that. ‘Might’ had to be a ‘would’. You couldn’t settle for anything else if you wanted to see your ship again and the freedom it gave you. The thought of your ship reminded you that you had already been here almost two weeks and the closest you had ever gotten at a chance for freedom had walked away from you before.

“Is the only way I get out of this if you free me?” You finally raised the question that had been running through your mind since you had turned him down.

“All business now, I see. And the answer to your question is yes.”

You didn’t know if he was telling you the truth or not but you had no choice to believe him, because if you didn’t, you doubted another opportunity would take its place.

“You wanted to know what was in it for me?” He continued.

Surprised, you nodded, not trusting to yourself to say anything that might make him change his mind.

“I don’t know yet what I would like from our little deal. All I know is that I will later, sometime during your year here.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “I told you I don’t make those kinds of deals.”

“Think of it as a gentleman’s agreement.” He suggest with a light flourish of his hands.

“I don’t quite know if that works seeing as you don’t seem like a gentleman and I’m no lady.” You pointed out. “And even so, changing the name doesn’t make it any better.”

“Midgardian.” The entirety of that intense gaze was now focused on you, making you shiver. “For whatever reason I cannot fathom, you’re still alive. That isn’t normal for someone of your kind. You seem to have a knack for survival and that’s something I’m very much interested in.”

You let out a bitter laugh, “So eventually you’re going to do something incredibly stupid and for some reason you actually think I can do something about it?”

He shrugged. “Call it instinct.”

“And that’s it?” You asked, sure you were missing the fine print. “There’s nothing else you’d want from me? My most cherished memory? My first born? Nothing?”

He raised an extremely unimpressed eyebrow, “I’m not Rumplestitlskin. There’s nothing else I’d require from you.”

“I’m surprised you know that story.” You said, that sly grin forming on his lips as the words came out of your mouth.

“Who says it was only a story?” He hinted and quickly changed the subject before you could even think to process what that comment meant, “Do you agree to the terms of our deal? I set you free and you help me stay alive when I need it most, within the year, of course.”

You didn’t answer right away, taking the time to seriously consider what it could mean for you. If he was serious and that was truly all he wanted, then that would also mean he would be looking out for you to make sure you didn’t die before he needed you. It might make it harder to sneak away to get the piece you needed before he could even call in his favour but at least you would have the opportunity to do so, which you wouldn’t have locked in this place.

You brought your gaze back to his and stared into those piercing green depths, hoping to see the truth in them, “And if I can’t do anything about your situation and you die?”

“Then I’m dead and you have nothing to worry about.” He replied as if his life weren’t the exact thing he was bargaining for.

“I kind of like the sound of that.” He narrowed his eyes and you laughed. “My, my wolf, so touchy. But here’s the thing. As much as I want to be let out, I’m having trouble believing that you’d let me out on the off chance you might have a close encounter with death within the year.”

He sighed, “I know it seems ridiculous to make a Midgardian such as yourself and ally, but I’ve made my choice and I’m running out of patience. Do we have a deal?”

You sucked in a breath, telling yourself you’d regret turning him down more than you’d regret agreeing. It was the only way you managed to say, “Fine. Deal.”

“Deal.” His lips spread into a wide, cunning grin that left you cold, before his image shimmered away.

It was too late to back out now. And if the prince was right about you, there was a way to get out alive and hopefully, unscathed. All you had to do now, was figure it out.


	3. A Failed Escape and a Successful Trap

You wandered the halls of the palace, pretending to look like you were just trying to stretch your legs, when really, you were waiting for the guard’s shift change. Although the prince had freed you from your cell two weeks ago, you still weren’t sure what it meant to be a Midgardian ambassador on Asgard. If you were being honest, you were pretty sure it had to do with the fact that you hadn’t seen him since he had led you to your new room. He had reminded you that you now had your end of the deal to upkeep and walked away. He had only taken about three steps before he had warned you to stay away from Odin and to stay in the palace. With that, he walked off and left you to discover your luxurious room on your own.

The new rules of your limited freedom seemed simple enough; stay inside and stay away from the biggest asshat in the realm who seemed so intent on keeping you captive. Yet, when you walked into your room and saw the face staring back at you in the full length mirror, you realized just how important it was that you stayed away from the king. Your face now looked like a memory of your own, still somehow yours, yet altered so that you looked more like the regular citizens of the realm.

He hadn’t told you why you had to stay away from the king, and you hadn’t thought to ask, but the face staring back at you had made it clear as to why he had warned you. If the king had been aware that you had been let out, there wouldn’t have been a need for a disguise. You had poked the face that still felt like your own. The king must have believed you were still trapped in that godforsaken dungeon. The thought had terrified you because you had known that it meant imminent death if you were found out, but you had pushed the fear as far down as it could go. A palace was a much better prison than a cell, even if it meant avoiding the king himself.

However, all the alone time in the palace had given you enough time to think of a way to escape. You had walked the halls enough times to figure out the best way to reach the most direct exit to the market and had spent time studying the guards’ rotations so that you knew exactly when it was safe to leave. Despite the fact that you were glamoured to look like everyone else, you weren’t planning on leaving your own clothes behind in favour of the Asgardian dresses they had provided you with. The sheer fact that you were wearing pants made you stick out like a sore thumb but it was a risk you were willing to take.

It wouldn’t be easy getting out and the only thing that reassured you - if only slightly - was that you hadn’t seen the two people who were the most intent on keeping you here.

While the new guards began chatting with the old, you walked past with only a slight nod in their direction. They barely gave you a passing glance, too caught up in their conversation and end of a long day to bother with you. Everything was going according to plan so far.

Walking out onto the busy street, you only got a few glances your way and you prayed that it would stay the same until you left the busy streets and onto the path into the forest.

“I’m coming for you, don’t worry” you whispered to your ship, despite the fact that it might have made you sound a little crazy and possibly a little threatening.

With a quick, but discreet pace, you headed towards the market you had visited the first day here - now that you knew exactly which booth you needed to get to. The streets were busy in the late evening and they would provide the perfect cover as long as you didn’t attract any sort of unwanted attention. Looking around, you found a few more people looking at you, but ignored them and kept your head down, weaving through the citizens. This could be your only chance at freedom and you weren’t about to let it go because a few people were ogling your fashion choices.

You veered around a sharp corner, trying to pick up speed but slammed into a couple, stumbling back in surprise. Your heart dropped when you saw recognition in the woman’s eyes.

The woman flicked a long blond braid over her shoulder, “Look Ake, it’s the Midgardian we saw in the dungeon.”

“It can’t be. Why is it free?” the man asked, looking particularly horrified, “I thought it was supposed to be kept in its cage?”

Without a word, you pushed past them, hoping they wouldn’t tell anyone what they had seen. It was the only reason you hadn’t stopped to let either of them know how much you hated being called an it. You shook your head, telling yourself to let it go. You wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore if this worked out.

The little spat had garnered more attention and although there weren’t many more eyes on you than before, it felt like everyone was aware of your presence. You shook your head, confused. It couldn’t only be the clothes, you thought realizing that the couple had recognized you too easily.

You found a booth that sold mirrors, ceremonial daggers and other decorative, bedazzled items and looked into a handheld mirror to find your own face looking back at you. Your fingers tightened around the mirror knowing that this suddenly meant it was going to be so much harder to get out alive.

You shot the vendor a bright smile and when he was focused on your face, you swiped a small knife, knowing it wasn’t the best weapon but a sharp edge all the same. After turning away, you grit your teeth and pushed past a group of Asgardians to reach the darker edge of the street, now cast in the late evening’s shadow. When you looked up from the ground, you spotted a small alley only a few feet away, barely noticeable in the dark. You weren’t sure where it would lead you but you knew it was better to take to the darkness rather than stay on such a crowded street now that you looked like yourself again.

Only a few feet in, a meaty hand gripped your elbow, fingers digging tightly into the sensitive nerve above the bone, as he tried to push you into the wall. You whirled, slamming into the arm with your free hand and raised your knife to his throat so that he was now between you and the wall.

The man was tall and thick, with curly bond hair framing bright blue eyes that appeared more amused than afraid. It wasn’t the look you were hoping to see but you figured his arrogance meant that he would underestimate you.

“I’ve never met a Midgardian before.” He leered, the danger in his voice screaming at you to run the other way.

You pushed it down. Your only advantage was the fact that you had a knife to his throat and running would rob you of that freedom. Short of killing him, you had no idea what to do, but steeled your look, knowing that as long as he didn’t realize that, you could get out alive and unhurt.

The malicious look in his eyes was enough for you to grip the knife’s bedazzled hilt tighter and you pushed the blade into his skin so that a small drop of blood ran down his neck. “What do you want?”

“To get to know you a little better pretty one. Why don’t you let go of that knife and give me a smile instead.”

You shuddered. It didn’t matter what planet you were on, it seemed you needed to carry a knife around with you everywhere. The only problem was, that unlike earth, you were fighting someone who was basically a god compared to you. At least it didn’t mean that your brain was any less useful, only that you were at a disadvantage physically.

“I’ve got other things to do than get to know a scumbag like you,” you turned your lips up, hoping the crazy smile on your face would be warning enough, “you’re welcome to get more acquainted with my knife if you would like.”

“I think I’ll chose you instead.” He sneered and took a step forward, despite the blood trickling from his throat.

Your heart began to pound and you held on tighter, knowing you were on the cusp of a fight. You reminded yourself that you were the one with the knife to his throat and despite that truly terrifying look on his face, you were the one who was going to get out of this alive. You hadn’t come this far not to.

“That would not be wise.” A familiar voice drawled.

Both of you turned your attention to where the voice had come from. The prince leaned up against the far wall, a foot up against it, throwing an apple up in the air and catching it like he had nothing better to do.

“And I know you’re not the brightest Asgardian in the alley but I’m sure you’re wise enough take my advice. Especially that this one is more dangerous than you’re giving her credit for.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thanks.” The man jeered. “I’d rather figure it out on my own.”

With a sigh, audible over even the busy street behind him, the prince pushed off the wall and swaggered over. It was hard to believe anyone could put so much disappointment into one sigh. 

“You can remove the knife Midgardian.”

“Are you sure? I’ve got this covered you know.” You replied even if you were pretty sure you were lying.

He smirked, “I know you do. I was just hoping you could share.”

Digging the knife in a little further for good measure, you let go and took a quick step back out of his reach. The man’s look of relief didn’t last long as a dagger materialized into the prince’s hand and replaced it where yours had been so quickly you would have missed it if you had blinked. However, the prince wasn’t content on keeping the man where he was. He shoved him back so hard the man’s skull cracked against the brick wall, s now pinned between it and the dagger. The man barely winced but it was enough to know that his earlier arrogance had left him and that the prince clearly had the upper hand.

“What you are thinking of doing would not be wise.” The prince snarled, barring his teeth. “Do you need a permanent reminder?”

The man clenched his jaw but shook his head. It didn’t take a genius to know that crossing the God of Mischief was more than simply dangerous.

“Good. I’m going to let you go now. Try not to stumble into another mess of the sort. It won’t end well for you.” The prince’s voice had returned to flippant, which almost seemed to terrify the man more than having had a dagger to his throat.

When he let go, the man scurried off with little dignity though it didn’t stop him from shooting a hateful glare in your direction before he turned the corner. 

In return, you gave him a peachy little wave but you weren’t deluded into thinking that you would never seen him again. He would be too resentful to forget what had happened here.

“I had him,” You reminded the prince, wiping the blood off the blade with your shirt.

Even if you were thankful he had helped out, it still didn’t make up for the fact that you wouldn’t have needed his help if he hadn’t brought you to the king in the first place.

“I know you did.” You couldn’t be sure, but you didn’t seem to detect any sarcasm in his voice. “But I figured it would take half as long if I got involved, especially with that terribly hideous dagger of yours.”

“You’re an arrogant little shit, you know that?” You tried to tuck the dagger into your boot but he had his hand clasped around your wrist before you could even come close and brought your hand over your head to pin you between his body and the wall. Your other hand may have been free, but without a weapon, you weren’t sure what you could do with him this close. You were sure he had known that when he had seen what you were about to do, which was exactly why you were now stuck in this position.

“So I’ve been told.” The corner of his lips curled upward, “And I’ll be taking that now. I made sure to take your weapons for a reason. We don’t need you playing with this one as well.”

You jutted your chin up, staring into those amused green eyes. “Scared I’ll come for you first?”

“My room is down the hall for yours Midgardian. I like to sleep knowing there isn’t someone equipped with a sharp blade ready to slit my throat only few doors down.”

“It is?” It was hard to believe that you had missed that fact in all your searching but you knew it had to be so that he could keep an eye on you. It was also strange that with his room so close, you had never run into him.

He nodded, vanished your blade and let you go.

Pushing past him with an irritated sigh, you continued down the alley at practically a jog.

“Where do you think you’re going Midgardian?”

“My own way, thanks. I really don’t like you so I think it’s just better this way.”

He caught up in a few quick stride and matched your pace, his long legs keeping up easily. “I’m aware. The feeling is mutual.”

You tried to pick up speed and took a turn away from the palace, “If the feeling his mutual then why are you following me?”

“Because we both know,” He slid an amused glance your way, relaxed as if he were taking a stroll, “That you’re not coming back if I don’t.”

“And that’s so bad?” Turning another sharp corner, you tried to lose him by cutting back the other way but he grabbed your elbow and spun you around.

“I don’t need Odin watching me even more than he is now because I let you escape.” He warned.

You crossed your arms, trying to pull out of his grasp. “Him watching you wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t scheming.”

“I’m not scheming Midgardian.”

“Sure.” You scoffed, “But if that were true than you would just let me go.”

“No.” He pulled you toward the palace, his steps slower than yours had been so that you wouldn’t have to jog to keep up.

You wished you still had any of your three daggers or even the ceremonial one to show him just what you could really do with a knife, but you knew it was hopeless. Even with a weapon, it wasn’t a fair fight.

“So this deal of ours means you’re not actually my ally but rather my prison guard.” You said.

“I prefer to think that ally is more accurate.” He shot you a peachy grin that made you want to wipe it off his face with your fist, “Prison guards can’t be this handsome.”

You picked up the pace, feeling good about venting some of your anger through the pounding steps. “Somehow I doubt that’s an accurate statement. Allies don’t keep you trapped.”

“Allies keep you alive, and you would have gotten killed trying to escape now.” He growled. “Heimdall would have seen you leaving long before you would have managed to fix your ship.”

“So that means you’re eventually going to help me escape?”

“No.”

You sighed and cursed yourself for allowing yourself even that little bit of hope. Of course he wouldn’t help you escape. Had you forgotten who you were even talking to?

“This conversation isn’t making me like you any more than I have since I met you.” You huffed.

“It’s a good thing that getting you to like me isn’t my goal, now is it?”

You cocked your head. “Then what is your goal, wolf?”

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

Your stomached tightened, a nauseous feeling spreading throughout your body. The look in his eyes warned you that whatever was coming next would probably make you like him even less. And although it was nice to actually have someone to talk to after almost a month of solitude, it sure as hell didn’t mean you trusted him or wanted to talk to him more than the time it took to get to the palace.

“Where are you taking me?” You demanded.

He lips spread further into that sly grin. “Nothing you shouldn’t be able to walk away from in one piece.”

You could feel your palms getting sweaty and you were glad he was holding your elbow so that he wouldn’t know how nervous his words were making you. But you rolled your eyes anyways, and faked that bravado you knew he expected, “Should walk away from. Isn’t that reassuring.”

He shrugged, “It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Gee thanks.” You grumbled. “You’re miserable, you know that?”

He grinned.

“If you get me killed wolf…”

“What, Midgardian?” He taunted, “What will you do to me if you’re already dead?”

“This conversation is getting redundant.” You said through gritted teeth.

He tilted his head as if in agreement and turned you down a small, barely noticeable dirt path. Only a few paces in, he slowed running his hand along the golden wall, his fingers pressing lightly into the brick. Watching curiously, you waited until a small click sounded to reveal a hidden door barely wide enough to fit two people. He didn’t offer an explanation and you said nothing as you made your way down the rough, grey stone hallway, your footsteps echoing off the damp and mouldy floor. The spiders and their undisturbed cobwebs hanging from the ceiling were probably the only other living creatures other than the prince that knew the hallway existed. It wasn’t like the smell made it inviting for others to find it either. 

“I know it’s a little mortifying to bee seen with an earthling, but really wolf, we could’ve done without the stench and the creepy corridor.”

He glanced around at the hallway, the ghost of a smile of his lips. If you didn’t know any better, you might have said he was amused.

You followed in silence until you reached a small wooden door, about the same size as the one you entered in. The hall it led into was deserted but built from the same gold stone as the rest of the palace. Wherever you were headed now, you were back in the public eye.

The few guards you crossed kept their gazes respectfully averted but somehow you doubted the God of Thunder had the same effect on the guards as the mischievous prince did. You had yet to see the other prince of Asgard and you couldn’t help but wonder if he would be more inclined to let you go if you did.

The next door the prince stopped at was covered intricate designs; swirls and whorls of gold and black unlike any you had ever seen on any other planet. The closet thing you had ever seen had been the museum’s ancient book on Norse Mythology. It made you wonder when and why their interactions with Earth had ceased. Maybe it was about time they got a earthling ambassador - just as long as it wasn’t you.

The prince paused with his hand on the door but turned to face you instead, “Did no one give you other, less…filthy clothes?”

You readjusted your jacket. “Yes. Yes they did.”

He shook his head, an incredulous look on his face, “And you didn’t think it would have been a good idea to change into them when you tried to escape?”

“I wasn’t going to try and escape in a gown with about seventy layers on it, that wouldn’t have been practical.” You shot back, making sure he would know you had been smart enough to consider it. “And seeing as that was all they gave me, it was a risk I was willing to take seeing as I didn’t quite look like myself.”

“That didn’t quite work out for you now did it?” When you only glared at him he continued, “I did tell you to stay in the palace, the glamour didn’t extend that far. But no matter, from now on you can keep your own face.”

“Well excuse me if I didn’t realize the clothes and the glamour were forms of captivity. And by the way, I’ve never seen any of the other women here in anything other than gowns. So does that mean they are all prisoners here too or have you guys not invented pants for women yet?” You growled, unable to hold your tongue. “I’ll save you trouble, they’re the same as mens pants.”

He chuckled. “No, only you. It’s a fashion thing. But seeing as we don’t have time for you look fashionable in any way, it will have to do. Maybe they’ll only be more intrigued by you because of it.”

“Wait, who’s they?” You latched onto his wrist, “Who will be more intrigued?”

“You’ll see.”

You tightened your grip, nails digging into his soft flesh, “I swear I’ll stab you the next time you answer with those words.”

“Midgardian,” his green eyes were alight with mischief, that wolfish grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, “I’d like to see you try.”

The door swung open and he pushed you through into an enormous hall filled with party goers. At the sight of you, the chatter in the hall instantly died.

“Looks like you’ve made them speechless.” He whispered from behind you, his breath tickling your ear.


	4. A Polished Party and a Jagged Attendee

You turned your head to look at the Prince, your faces now mere inches apart, the scent of lemon and pine impossible not to notice. Looking into his eyes, you tried to focus on the cunning amusement you found in them rather than the discomfort of every pair of eyes boring into you. “Are you sure it’s not your terrifying mug that stunned them all into silence?”  
His jaw twitched in what might have been an attempt to hide a smile. “It’s never had that effect before.”  
You shrugged, “How can you be so sure?”  
He shook his head slightly, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, “It seems you’ll do just fine here Midgardian.”  
He broke eye contact and turned to the crowd. His words did nothing to reassure you as you stared down the small group of about about fifty, all mingling with flutes of what appeared to be champagne in their hands. It looked like the two of you had crashed a party and neither you or the guests seemed too pleased about it. As irritating as the prince was, arguing with him was hands down more preferable than whatever you were about to go through.  
“My dear people,” he announced with a dramatic sweep of his hands, “I don’t know what rumours you may have heard, but this Midgardian is not dangerous in any way. She is our ambassador and is here to answer any question you may have about Midgard or its beings.”  
The crowd began to whisper and strange looks were thrown in your direction as they took you in. Glazing over the faces as to not get intimidated by any, you pulled at your jacket, realizing why the Prince had been hoping you would have been wearing the Asgardian clothes. Without them, you felt more like a pariah than a spectacle - not that either were great options. The monstrous dresses they had given you didn’t seem like such a bad option any more.  
“And more importantly,” he continued, a harder edge to his voice, despite the false aristocracy, “She is under Odin’s protection.”  
The crowd immediately quieted, ogling you with renewed interest and something like a mix of fear and awe. You kept your face impassive, not wanting to spoil the bald faced lies coming out of the prince’s mouth. It didn’t matter that it made sense for an ambassador to be protected by the king; you knew you wouldn’t have had to sneak around for the past couple weeks if you had truly been under Odin’s protection. But then again, announcing your presence in such a public manner had to mean that the king was aware you were no longer in the dungeon and that he wasn’t about to kill you for it. Right? You told yourself that your little deal with the god of Mischief had made sure that you wouldn’t be in the crosshairs of such obvious danger.  
You fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt, unsure what to believe. Trying to unravel the sly god’s plans only served to make your head hurt. You could try and figure them out when it didn’t feel like you were staring down the barrels of about fifty guns. The only thing you knew for sure was that you were a prisoner all the same, regardless of whether it was publicly in a dungeon or privately in the eyes of the king and his son.  
“Midgaridan? I was correct in thinking you could hear, no?”  
Your attention snapped to the mocking voice and you shot the prince a confused look. Snickers filled the air. You glared at him. This party obviously wasn’t going to be easy. The least he could do was not make it any harder. But you took in a deep breath, not wanting to show these people, or the prince, any sign of emotion.  
“I asked if you wanted to say a few words to this lovely crowd.” He repeated, daring you to prove to him and the crowd that you were more than the meek, pathetic being you were rumoured to be.  
Still, you hesitated anyways. Sure if you didn’t say anything you would prove them right but what did you have to say? It wasn’t like you could tell them that you were being held prisoner here and that you’d stab any one of them if it meant getting out alive. And if you based your lying abilities on how often the prince believed you, the odds weren’t in your favour for pretending you actually wanted to be here.  
The weight of everyone’s eyes on you made you aware that you had to say something, even if it was just to say that you wouldn’t say anything at all. Something had to come out of your mouth before these people could add stupid to the list of attributes they believed you possessed.  
“It is an honour to be a Midgardian ambassador for this beautiful realm.” You cleared your throat, trying to stop the shake in your voice. “It has been too long since our two worlds have been connected. I look forward to meeting you all.”  
“Thank you Midgardian. Enjoy the party everyone.” The Prince’s voice dripped honey but the dismissal was clear. The show was over. At least for now.  
“You know, if you hadn’t been scowling, maybe someone would have believed you.” He whispered, all too amused for your liking. “Now go mingle. It’s a large part of your duties here.”  
Even though he now had his back to you, you knew there would be a smug smirk on his face - the kind you only wanted to wipe off with your fist. If there hadn’t been so many people around, you might have done it, and something told you he knew that.  
You sighed.  
Mingle.  
Small talk with strangers. Great.  
You took a tentative step forward into the fray, trying to figure out why the prince had brought you here. Because there was no way he had only brought you here to mingle. You understood that technically he was right and that it was probably a part of your official job but still, you didn’t trust him enough to believe he had no other motive. Maybe it was punishment for having tried to escape, but you didn’t think so. The way he had sent you off just now made it seem like this was practice for other, bigger events.  
It was harder than you thought it would be to even find someone to stop and talk to. It seemed impossible with everyone sneaking glances at you like you were a car wreck - a disaster they knew they shouldn’t stare at for too long. A woman in a cornflower blue dress with long blond hair walked by with an equally stunning man beside her, dressed in an expensive looking navy cloak. You recognized them as the couple you had run into earlier and they seemed no more charming than they did then.  
You had just turned to, if you were being honest, run in the opposite direction when she spoke, “I can’t imagine why Odin wanted it around. I mean they’re so fragile, I’m surprised it hasn’t died yet.”  
“I know.” The man said with a devastated sigh, “Prince Loki said they spend most of their time asleep. It’s a wonder it’s still standing.”  
It was a wonder stupidity hadn’t killed either of them yet, you thought, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. The rational side of your brain knew you should walk away but you couldn’t. You had had it with being called an it. And again you were stuck in a miserable situation because of a certain prince. And if you couldn’t lash out at him, you would find the next best thing. After all, wasn’t it your job to talk to these people?  
Turning, you bared your teeth in a false, sharp smile. “Hi. I couldn’t help but let you know that I was actually wondering the same thing about the two of you. I mean, not the whole fragile, sleeping body thing but wondering how you’re not dead yet.” They furrowed their brows, unsure as to where you were going with your statement. “Honestly, how have you not annoyed anyone to the point of murder yet. I’m genuinely curious. I have to know your secret.”  
Her eyes narrowed and she took a step forward as if to strike you, but the man sighed with a hand on her shoulder. He seemed so genuinely bored you couldn’t help but think he could have faked the welcome speech much better than you ever could have.  
“Interesting, aren’t they.”  
“Actually, I find these creatures to be rather predictable.” She pursed her lips as if having bit into a lemon. “Must be the results of being so…uncivilized.”  
You ground your teeth, ready to turn this into a real brawl when a deep voice interrupted, “She’s only calling you a creature because she’s never seen anyone so lovely in her life.”  
You whirled around, fully prepared to tell this new person to shove off but lost your words at the sight of the kindest eyes you had ever seen. The man they belonged to had dark skin and brown eyes so dark they were almost black, with hair cropped close to his head. Even amidst the rest of the the gorgeous crowd, the man before you radiated beauty.  
Knowing it wouldn’t be smart to alienate everyone on this planet, you unclenched your fists and forced a smile. If you were truly going to be stuck here for a year, you were going to need an ally - one that wasn’t known for chaos and vanity.  
He extended a hand, “I’m Asger.”  
You paused, shocked by his civility and overall lack of gawking.  
“Is a handshake not a Midgardian greeting custom?” His brows furrowed as he looked at his hand like a traitor.  
“Yes. Yes it is.” You took his hand before he could retract it. “I’m (y/n).”  
“It’s nice to meet you (y/n).” A broad smile lit his face and for the first time since you had crash landed, you felt yourself loosen up, if only a little.  
Maybe this party wouldn’t be so horrifyingly terrible. So far, he appeared to be kind and straight forward. You hated that your first instinct was thinking you could proabably use someone like him to escape, but you knew, deep down, getting out wasn’t going to be easy or pleasant.  
“It’s nice to meet you too.” You turned your back on the two twits you always seemed to run into, and gave him your full attention. “It’s refreshing to find someone who isn’t completely oblivious about the ways of earth.”  
As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized they were most definitely not the words of a proper ambassador, but if he noticed, he didn’t let on.  
Instead, he let out a warm laugh, “I’m pleased to know all those hours spent in the library were not for nothing.”  
You placed a hand on his muscular forearm, and shot him a smile of your own. “Well, I’d have to say I’m impressed Asger.”  
“Then that makes it all worth it, lady.”  
“And how is our dear ambassador doing?” The prince appeared seemingly out of nowhere, looming over your shoulder. “I’m sure you’re getting acquainted just fine?”  
“What does it matter to you?” You snarled in a low whisper.  
The prince didn’t answer, remaining still yet ever so bored. Asger looked between the two of you with a strange look on his face, his eyes lingering on the prince before he nodded and turned away, no longer meeting your eyes. You wanted to tell him to stay, that the cunning man behind you was leaving instead, but he was gone too quickly.  
“As the one who brought you to this party, it wouldn’t reflect kindly on me if you were to me if you were to do anything,” He paused, still staring after Asger, “Unseemly.”  
You glared at him with clenched fists, frustrated that he had scared off the only person here that didn’t seem to want anything from you. “You don’t have to worry about your precious reputation wolf. I’ve been fine.”  
“Is that why you asked Alva why she wasn’t dead yet?” A laugh resonated through his chest as he took in your surprised expression. “I was informed.”  
You crossed your arms, in no way willing to apologize. “Seems like I have a knack for making enemies. Maybe I’m not cut out to be an ambassador and should just go home to Earth.”  
“Seems like you also have one for making friends.” His voice trailed off, all humour gone, eyes tracing Asger through the crowd.  
“That shouldn’t surprise you.” You jutted up your chin. “I can be quite nice to those who don’t call me an it.”  
“It doesn’t surprise me.” His unnerving gaze found yours again, staring at you as if you were the only person in the room. “It’s only natural.”  
You couldn’t find it in you to look away. “And why would you say that?”  
“Because it seems that no one here can take their eyes off of you.” He looked past you so quickly you almost missed it but the dangerous glint in his eyes was enough to remind you who you were talking to. “Maybe not all for the same reasons, but nonetheless, none of them can.”  
“I think that might be because most of these people are so oblivious about Earth they can’t tell a rabbit from a racoon.”  
That arrogant smirk slid into place, masking any real emotion you might have glimpsed. “You can’t blame them for their stupidity.”  
You grabbed a flute off of a tray from a passing waiter. “Somehow I doubt that’s something a man who wishes to be king should say.”  
He cocked his head, seeming surprised but not offended as he took the drink from your hand. “Who says I wish to be king?”  
“It isn’t hard to guess.” You shrugged, trying to hide the fact that you were fishing for information. “Especially that you’re known for your cunning reputation.”  
You weren’t sure what kind of information you were looking for, but anything you could use against him might be useful later on. Getting to your ship meant getting as much help as you could blackmail into getting.  
“Mischievous.” He corrected with a wolfish grin. “There’s no ill intent behind any of my tricks.”  
You leaned back on your heels, turning your nose up at him. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night wolf.”  
His smile curled into a sneer, his eyes slightly narrowed as if it was too much work to maintain the mask he wore in public. You had to wonder if your words had hit a nerve and you stored his little reaction away.  
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t find it all that difficult to fall asleep. And you must not any more either.”  
“And why’s that?”  
“Because I know from experience that the bed you have now is much more comfortable than the one in your cell. Just remember what that’s like before you decide to stop playing nice.” His lips spread into a wide, wolfish grin.  
You clenched your teeth, unsure how to respond. It seemed no matter how often he might appear to be on your side, he always managed to remind you that he only played to benefit himself - and you knew what benefit the prince wasn’t guaranteed to benefit you. However, his vicious reaction only solidified your suspicions that you had hit a nerve and you wondered if maybe, deep down somewhere, the prince was at war with the decisions he made. If maybe, deep down somewhere, there was a heart in that lean chest.  
His threat reminded you that being out of the dungeon meant you were constantly at his mercy, so however much you wanted to show him what you were really like when you stopped playing nice, he was right about the bed in your room being more comfortable. Although, you did have to wonder if he was speaking generally about the beds outside of the dungeon or if he really had tested both. You sighed. You had enough with this party and everyone in it. It was time you got the hell out.  
“Have I mingled enough yet, your highness?” Your voice was clipped and professional - playing nice as he called it.  
His jaw twitched, “When you spit the words out, the formalities don’t mean much.”  
“I’ll save you the trouble by telling you this now wolf.” You placed your hands on your hip, unable to help yourself. “The formalities never mean much when they come from my mouth.”  
“I figured as much Midgardian.” With a finger under your chin, he tilted your head up, his touch feather light. “Maybe someone will have to teach you some manners.”  
Those green eyes were dark, taunting and beautiful - a dangerous mix you had never seen on a human. Yet he wasn’t the only dangerous one playing these games. You were too. And despite his threat only seconds ago, you weren’t about to let him think he was about to win every round so easily.  
“Oh prince,” you let out a lover’s sigh that had him tilting his head in curiosity, “Touch me again and you’ll lose your hand.”  
He let out a breath that may have been a chuckle. “So feisty.”  
You raised a brow, waiting for him to remove the calloused finger that, even in its limited contact, seemed to burn at the touch.  
“I hope that’s a promise you’ll keep with all the other men and women who touch you.” He dropped his finger but held you there with that intense gaze. “Have a wonderful evening ambassador. On behalf of the king, we’re pleased you have granted us with a moment of your time. We expect to see you at the next gathering.”  
You stopped yourself from calling him out on his lies and forced a tightlipped smile and a nod. As much as you hated to admit it, he could change his mind if you gave him a reason to. He had taken his finger off and you had to consider that a win. You weren’t about to push it and stay here any longer than you had to.  
With a wink, he turned and left, dismissing you with the motion. You thought about heading back down to the market now that you could say you were on official ambassador business but you suddenly felt exhausted. And if Asgard was anything like Earth, the shops would all be closed at this hour.  
What you really needed was sleep and a lot of it. It was clear that no one here trusted you, and tired, there was no way you could escape with their eyes constantly on you. You knew even getting Asger to help you would take time. You would have to play the good little soldier before you could make your escape because there were no shortcuts here; you learned that today with how quickly the prince had found you.  
Even if patience was not one of your virtues, you would make it one. Being too hasty would probably result in your death. On the plus side, if you were really smart about it, you could probably steal something valuable on your way out. It only seemed fair that they gave you a hefty payment for all the trouble they caused.  
At the door, your turned back and glanced around the room, locking eyes with Asger long enough for him to shoot you another kind smile. When you spotted the prince who, despite the smile he shot in another lord’s direction, looked miserable, you smiled.  
You pushed open the door and looked around, unsure which way to go. You had a lot of planning to do if you wanted to escape, but that was okay because they had sentenced you with enough time to use it to your advantage.


	5. A Mischievous Deed and a Rash Result

A couple mornings later, you stormed over to the prince’s room and barged on the door, not caring if you woke up the entire palace in the process. There was hell to pay and you knew exactly who was going to pay it. When your fist was sore from pounding, you tried the handle, but obviously, it was locked.   
You had spent most of the last two days in the library, digging up all you could about the prince and the royal family. However during that time, you had also made a point of finding out which room belonged to the conniving prince. And your digging had paid off because it meant that the only person responsible for your pissed off mood so early in the morning was behind the door you were violently taking your anger out on.   
Changing to your other fist, you pounded until you heard the lock click, and the door swung open to reveal the prince, his hair disheveled, and wearing only a rumpled pair of pants hung low across his hips. The sight made you momentarily forget your anger and you stared, taking in the dark allure of the god in front of you. A sight like that first thing in the morning wouldn’t be such a bad thing to wake up to, you thought, especially if you were the reason he looked like that. Horrified, you shook your head and glared at him, reminding yourself as to why you were here and who exactly stood in front of you.   
He smirked, as if he could read your mind, your momentary lapse in judgment probably feeding his ego more than you would ever want it to. “What do you want Midgardian?”   
“My clothes. Where the hell are they?” You barked, gesturing to the pale violet dress you had been forced to put on.   
When you had woken this morning, your clothes were nowhere to be seen, despite how vigilant you were about checking the lock on your bedroom door every night. Although the door had still been locked in the morning, the only way you could explain your vanished clothing was the one person who could do the inexplicable. Furious, you had burst out the door, slamming it behind you, ready to give him a piece of your mind and possibly a fist to the face along with it.   
He let out a long exhale, all amusement disappearing, “You couldn’t have waited until the sun came up to begin one of your feisty little rants?”   
“No.” You took what you hoped was an intimidating step forward, hoping to accentuate your point. “Tell me where they are before I make you.”   
“Now, now,” he purred, his wolfish gaze raking up and down your body, “How would you intend to do that?”   
You ignored the comment, unsure how to answer anyways, and continued to glare at him. “Where. The. Hell. Are. My. Clothes.”   
He let out another sigh, almost as if he were disappointed you didn’t want to play his little game. “Your clothes are being washed, and with good reason. I think you can manage Asgardian clothing until yours no longer reek of earth and mortality.”   
You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, “When will I get them back?”   
“Soon enough.” He picked at the grime under his nails, apparently bored with the conversation. “At least you won’t stand out in these clothes.”   
“I don’t care about that.” You shot back, “I am what I am and they can damn well look if they please. Now where are they wolf?”   
His eyes flashed with something you didn’t recognize, whatever it was disappearing too quickly for you to put your finger on it.   
“I’ll come get you when they’re ready Midgardian. Go back to bed until it’s no longer dark out.” His lips curled into a wicked grin, and he stepped out of the doorway so that you were mere inches apart, “Unless you’d like to come in instead?”   
You shoved him back into his room, surprised by the coolness of his hard body under your palms. He was only trying to get a rise out of you. It wasn’t like he was being serious.  
“Don’t forget to come find me later.” You ordered and spun on your heel, hearing his light chuckle before the click of the door shutting behind you.   
Holding up the dress so that you wouldn’t trip on it, you made your way back to your room. They had been smart in giving you floor length dresses. There was no way you could hold up the dress, move and yield and weapon all at once. Yet. If you were going to be stuck in this useless piece of clothing for what might be the whole day, you were going to find a way to use it to your advantage. Or you were going to get creative with a knife. 

 

“Listen,” You begged a guard, “I promise I won’t hurt anyone with it. The only thing that’s in danger is this dress, trust me.”   
It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that to fix the dress, or to practice using a weapon wearing one, you actually needed to have a weapon. You felt a familiar ache in your chest, a pain almost physical, at the reminder that you no longer had your own knives. They may not have been much, but without them, you were reminded just how vulnerable you were in a realm like Asgard. It hadn’t taken you long to go off in search for a guard willing to part with anything sharp for the few minutes it would take to make the dress at least suitable to run in.   
The big problem was that none of them trusted you. Ambassador or not, they weren’t about to let you anywhere near anything that could even be remotely used as a weapon. And an actual weapon? Getting one was going to be harder than you had realized.   
You batted your eyelashes at the man and pasted on a pretty smile. Minutes ago, when you had threatened to stab a different guard with his own knife if he didn’t lend you his, he had barely blinked an eye. This time you were attempting a different approach, hoping this time it would be more successful. “Please? It’ll only be for a moment. And a strong guard like you wouldn’t even need his dagger to best me in a fight even if I did try anything - which I won’t. You won’t even notice it’s gone.”   
“The only way I wouldn’t notice would be if I were dead.” His face was stone cold, refusing to even look at you.  
“Well then,” you huffed, your hands getting caught in the multiple layers of the dress, “If you refuse to part with it then you can just do it yourself. I’ll take the dress off right here, right now and you can chop off-” It was as if you had lost your hands in the violet material. Desperately trying to shake them free, you grunted, “you can chop off the bottom two feet.”   
The wary look on the guards face when you finally escaped the dress’ poof made you realize he was looking you over to try and determine whether or not you were bluffing. You almost snorted. It seemed that threatening to undress to your underwear was more terrifying than being stabbed with a dagger. What did he even think you even had under the dress? Tentacles? You were pretty sure Asgardian and human anatomy looked relatively identical. And anyways, if he had really thought about it, you wouldn’t have needed his damned knife in the first place if what you had under there was actually dangerous.   
Either way, it didn’t matter. Even if it wasn’t the kind of threat you thought would get you your freedom from the violet cage, you could make it work. You were flexible that way.   
“Really,” your voice lit up as if you had just found the most brilliant solution, “This is perfect! I’ll just take the dress off and that way you won’t have to let go of that precious little knife of yours! It’s a win, win!”   
His eyes widened and he shifted his weight as if he wanted to be anywhere else. The only reason you managed to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the situation was because you knew you were seconds away from getting what you wanted, so you forced the smile from your face.   
When you lifted the bulk of your dress, the guard’s eyes filled with panic and he looked around desperately for help, finding it when a voice from behind you burst out, “Wait!”   
Turning, Asger stood with his hands out, as if you were about to shoot the guard. You wanted to shake your head. Could getting what you wanted in this realm be as simple as threatening nudity? You knew it couldn’t be. You doubted your threats would work on the prince, and that he would most likely call your bluff in that lazy irritating way of his. And if he didn’t, you were pretty sure he wouldn’t be scandalized by nudity, much less the idea of you getting undressed before him. More likely, he would probably end up helping you out of the stupid contraption, his deft fingers grazing your bare skin-   
Before the thoughts could go any further, you shoved them from your mind, knowing they were probably only there because of his offer that morning and maybe the small fact that you saw him shirtless that morning. It didn’t matter that there was a minuscule part of you that couldn’t help but admit that the prince’s roguish smirk and lazy charm were in some way at least slightly alluring; the thoughts were useless and probably the result of being on this planet for too long already. They had no business being in your brain.   
Those traitorous thoughts however, were the reason you shot Asger your most innocent smile, and chirped with a girlish giggle, “Oh hi Asger! You know I wasn’t actually going to do anything right? I was just so tired of being cooped up in this dress that I completely exaggerated.” You shot him another smile for good measure. Hopefully he didn’t find all your smiling suspicious.   
“Well, that’s an…interesting way to go about things.” His lips were pulled into a tight smile he probably didn’t feel.   
It was obvious he found it more worrisome than interesting, but his choice of words reassured you that he wasn’t completely horrified. At least not yet. But him being worried was most likely a good thing. The only person you knew who would have found your choices truly interesting was the last person you wanted to have this conversation with. You dug your nails into the puffy material, annoyed that the prince seemed to keep finding a way into your head.   
“I know,” you looked down at that polished floor, trying your best to appear sheepish, “You wouldn’t happen to be able to help me would you?”   
A tentative look clouded his expression, “Doing what exactly?”   
“Simply with a bit of seamstress work. I seem to find the bottom two feet of this dress…cumbersome.”   
His warm laugh reassured you that your limited knowledge of ladylike etiquette seemed to be paying off, “It does seem to be a little difficult to move about in such attire.”   
“More than a little.” You couldn’t help but grumble.   
“And what is it that you would need?”   
“Only a small thing. A dagger.”   
His eyes widened and though the words may have been casual conversation for you, they clearly weren’t words everyone was accustomed to; especially someone who spent as much time in the library as Asger claimed to. However, you knew from experience that the two weren’t mutually exclusive. You had seen living proof that someone could be as cunning as they were good with a weapon.   
“Or scissors!” You tried to recover, “Anything that can cut fabric really. I don’t know if you have any fancy tools on Asgard that we don’t have on earth, you know, different realms and all…”   
The odds of Asger helping you would be slim to none if he thought you were crazy, so when he smiled, the wide row of pearly whites lighting up his handsome face, you let out a breath of relief. Maybe you hadn’t scared everyone away yet.   
“How about you follow me and we can find a simpler solution to your problem.”   
You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything else that might scare him off, and followed him down the hall. As you walked, he asked you questions about earth, some easy to answer and others that made you wonder if information traveled the realms like an intergalactic game of telephone gone wrong.   
The conversation flowed easily, drifting from topic to topic. You couldn’t help but think that this ambassador job wouldn’t be so bad if it was always like this, but you knew you’d be deluding yourself if you believed that it would always be easy. The prince wouldn’t be amused by something so eventless, and if there was anything you had learned so far was that the sly god didn’t do boring. And you knew that more often than not, easy was boring.   
After asking a particularly strange question about cats, Asger led you into a small kitchen and began rifling through the drawers.   
“This is a servants kitchen.” He said by way of explanation, “There will be scissors in here somewhere.”   
“And why would a Lord be familiar with a servant’s kitchen?” You opened drawers of your own, hoping to find something, anything, you could steal and use as a weapon.   
After a long pause he said, “I’m not a lord”, keeping his head down as he searched. Although his voice was light, his shoulders were tense as he looked around.   
“Is everyone in this place stupidly beautiful then?” You grumbled, trying to lightened the mood just as you spotted steak knives.   
For the first time since putting on the dress, you were thankful you had it on. The abundance of material was perfect for pocketing the knife, but before you could take it out of the drawer, you paused, sensing he had his eyes on you.   
He stared at you with a small smile on his face.   
“What?” You asked, hoping he didn’t see you begrudgingly put the knife back.   
Your voice seemed to remind him that he was staring, “What? Oh yes. I have the scissors…”   
You closed the drawer reluctantly, telling yourself that now that you knew where the kitchen was, no one would notice a missing steak knife. And walking toward him, you kept repeating the comforting thought in your head, the ache of missing your own knives like the ache of a phantom limb.   
He handed over the scissors as if afraid you would ask him to do the unseemly deed. The prince had warned you not to do anything ‘unseemly’, but it seemed that you couldn’t be bothered to follow his rules, especially when he wasn’t here to enforce them.   
The second you heard the sound of ripping fabric you grinned, a maniacal laugh bursting from your lips. Any feelings of regret you may have had at destroying the admittedly pretty dress vanished the moment you felt the cool air against your bare legs.   
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you look this happy.” Asger remarked.   
“Getting marooned on a foreign planet can do that to a person.”   
The silence that followed, hung in the air like a palpable thing, long and awkward. Without any clue as to why, you looked up once you stopped your hacking for a moment, and were met with a confused look.   
“What?”   
“I thought you wanted to be our ambassador. Or was Loki mistaken?”   
“oh yes, I mean no.” You stammered, realizing your giant misstep. “He wasn’t mistaken. It’s just that it gets a little lonely here without other people from earth you know? Sometimes it feels so much that way that it’s like I’ve been marooned from other eart- Midgardians. It’s just another exaggeration.”   
You looked down at the ground once again with a shrug, hoping he would believe the lie you just stumbled through. It went against everything inside you to play the meek, little earthling and you hated it, but you knew it was the only way you could get out of these situations without being looked at too carefully.   
“You Midgardians do have quite interesting speech patterns.” He mused.   
You forced a laugh, “I know, right?”   
“But if I can do anything to help with the loneliness, you can let me know (y/n). I understand that the palace can be an intimidating place.”   
You looked into those warm brown eyes and at the sheepish grin on his face, “I’d like that.”   
“Yes?” His voice was filled with surprise.   
“Of course.” You grinned, lifting up the crossed blades you knew could be a weapon in the right hands, “Every lady needs someone in her life that can find her scissors when she needs to take apart a dress.”   
He laughed, a jolly sounds that seemed to light up the room as he admired your new work of art, “That seems like a deal I can live with. Even if it now looks like you’ve gotten into a nasty fight with Tanngrisnir.”   
“That’s exactly the look I was going for,” You patted down the dress, thinking that if he considered this to be a deal, then this time, you were definitely getting the winning end of one, “Even if I’m not sure what a Tanngrisnir is.”   
Asger looked like he was about to explain, but you threw the leftover pieces of cloth onto the counter, laughter bubbling out as you lunged across the room simply because you could.   
“If I didn’t know any better Midgardian,” The prince’s voice caught you by surprise, and you whirled toward the sound, “I’d say you were up to a little mischief.”   
The prince stood in the doorway, the corner of his mouth quirked up, leaning lazily against the frame as if he had settled in to watch a while ago.   
“And how long have you been lurking there for?” Your voice has less of its usual bite, the feeling of freedom overpowering your usual irritation.   
He winked, “Not long enough for it to be considered lurking.” When he turned his attention to Asger, the look on his face clashed with his carefree posture, “Asger.”   
“Loki.”   
They stared at each other, neither moving a muscle. Tension you didn’t quite understand filled the room and you looked back and forth between the two in an attempt to figure it out.   
“I would need to borrow the Midgardian, if you don’t mind of course Asger.” The prince practically sneered, more of a dare than a question.   
“It isn’t up to either of you where I go.” You interrupted before Asger could answer, already feeling the familiar heat of anger spiking in the prince’s presence, “And I do mind.”   
He let out a long, tried sigh. “Forgive me for trying to be polite Midgardian. What I meant to say was that the ambassador is needed elsewhere shortly, whether she minds or not, for a certain matter we discussed this morning.”   
You clenched your fists, annoyed that he was the one calling the shots and Asger took the hint and shot you a tight lipped smile. Suddenly realizing where you were needed shortly and what you had discussed with the prince that morning, you shot Asger an apologetic smile in return, not quite able to feel bad about shoeing him off so quickly.   
Your smiled widened. You were going to get your own clothes back.   
When Asger left the room, you twirled, giddy with what you had just done and the thought of getting your clothes back.  
“Well don’t you look ravishing.” He smirked, eyes roaming up and down your body once you came to a stop.   
“I know,” You couldn’t help but mirror the look on his face, and you twirled once more for good measure, the frayed ends of the dress lifting above your knees. “Do you like my adjustments?”   
He took a moment before answering, a funny look on his face, “It’s most definitely all the proof I needed.”   
“Proof of what exactly?”   
“Of your incredible lack of patience.” Whatever the look had been, it vanished and was quickly replaced with one of annoyance. “Could you have not waited another hour before terrorizing half the guards with your threats to stab them for help?”   
You crossed your arms, annoyed he would even go there but thankful he didn’t seem to be aware of your threats to get undressed. “Maybe if you had actually given me a heads up that my clothes were being washed in the first place then none of this would have happened.”   
“Of course your little fit is my fault.” He growled, stepping closer.   
“It is. If you had just been decent about it, none of this would have happened.” You took a step to meet him, refusing to back down. You weren’t even sure why he was so upset but you weren’t going to let him get away with blaming you for his pissy mood. You weren’t going to play meek with him. “And how did you even know I threatened them?”   
A cunning smirk seemed to chase away his anger as it pulled at the corner of his lips, “I didn’t. But I would have been quite disappointed if you hadn’t.”   
“So what? Was that a test to see how I would react?” You demanded incredulously, “Did you want to see what I would do if I really wanted something? Did you need to see if you had made the right choice in making a deal with an earthling?” You shook your head and muttered, “I should have known you’d do something this manipulative.”   
All humour disappeared from his expression and you stared into the same unyielding and unfeeling eyes you had seen in the throne room your first day here. The man in front of you had nothing in common with the mischievous god you were used to dealing with. “I sent for your clothes to be washed because I quickly became bored of answering the multiple questions I had gotten regarding whether or not all Midgardians smelled so truly terrible. Not everything is about you Midgardian.”   
He pushed past you, a cool breeze in his wake sending shivers down your spine. Despite how much you wanted to stomp off the other way, you knew you had no choice but to follow if you wanted your clothes back.   
“Would that be because everything’s always about you wolf?”   
A smirked played at his lips but instead of the cocky and winning gleam you expected to reach his eyes, there was nothing there. “That is exactly right.”   
Digging your nails into your palms, you followed in silence attempting to leash your anger. It seemed like minutes ago you had been so pleased with yourself that you thought nothing could bother you. But things could change. You could get back to that state of mind. You refused to let the prince spoil your fun.   
“Tell me something Midgardian,” He started, pausing at a tiny, drab looking door. “If your friend hadn’t shown up, what would you have done?”   
You looked up at him with a raised brow, “I would’ve managed to hack off the bottom of the dress even sooner. That guard was seconds away from giving me his dagger. I had him you know.”   
He leaned forward to whispered so that you were only inches away, “And what makes you so certain about that?”   
You shrugged and recalled the words he had offered you when you had made your deal weeks ago, “Call it instinct.”   
“I don’t have much faith in your instincts.”   
“I know that’s a lie wolf. You wouldn’t have made a deal with me if you didn’t.” You jut your chin up haughtily but it only brought the two of you closer and you could see the gold of the palace walls reflected in his eyes. “But why would you say that?”   
It seemed like victory pulled at the corners of his mouth until you found yourself caught up in that stupid, sly grin of his. His eyes lazily searched your face, his gaze lingering wherever he saw fit and goosebumps broke out along your neck with his breath tickled your skin.   
“You really don’t know?”   
“That’s why I’m asking you the question wolf.” You breathed, his closeness making it hard to think.   
“The answer is simple. You’ve been taking to an illusion for most of this conversation. I would most definitely use that as an example of poor instincts.”   
On your left, the door opened and the prince stepped out, your clothes folded neatly in his hands. You swished your hand through what you had thought was the prince and felt your irritation spike, especially now that the prince was a good two feet away.   
“How many times have you done that exactly?” You demanded.   
He shrugged, “Possibly a handful since you’ve crash landed?”   
“Do you do that just to be irritating?” You waved a hand in the air, motioning to where you thought he had been standing. “And how is that even possible? I’ve been standing in front of you the whole time.”   
“I do it mostly because I can’t always be hanging around a Midgardian, constantly doing nothing. I’ve got more important things to do if you must know.” He tilted his head condescendingly, “And it wouldn’t irritate you if you were able to disconcert the real from the fake darling.”   
“Well I can’t okay? Not yet anyways.” You huffed. “But you didn’t answer my question. How’d you do it?”   
“Misdirection. The illusions aren’t worth much if they can’t be properly manipulated.” He shrugged, almost as if the idea of explaining his magic made him slightly sheepish.   
The look eased your anger slightly - enough to let you think through what had just happened more clearly. “Can you show me again?”   
His eyes widened, “The illusion of myself?”   
You nodded.   
If you could figure out the difference between the real prince and the fake one then you’d be at less of a disadvantage if you had to fight him on your way to your ship or off this planet.   
He complied, the image of himself coming to life in front of you once again, side by side with the real prince. You stared, dumbfounded, at the incredible likeness between them. It seemed like every detail was there, the physical features identical, and you weren’t surprised you hadn’t been able to tell the difference between the two. Focusing hard enough though, you realized there was something missing behind the illusion’s eyes - emotion, a spark of life - and you also realized how much you looked to the prince’s eyes to gauge his reactions.   
“You must really like to stare at yourself to have perfected every detail of your appearance. How often do you stare at yourself in the mirror wolf?”   
He smirked, “Not as often as you might think.”   
“Funny,” you kept inspecting the two princes, the retort rolling off your tongue even when distracted, “I would have thought you’d enjoy staring at yourself all the time.”   
There was a slight edge to his voice when he said, “Vanity had nothing to do with how quickly I’ve perfected my skills.”   
“Let’s pretend I believe that.” You said automatically.   
But when the image vanished and you really saw him, holding your clothes delicately in his hands, it struck you that your words were all practiced bravado. You really did believe him.   
It didn’t matter that you were sure vanity had played a large part in the rumours you had heard concerning the prince, something told you that the reason his skills were beyond cunning and unparalleled had nothing to do with narcissism. However, just because you knew what hadn’t motivated the success of his dangerous skill set, didn’t mean you knew what had.   
“Believe what you will Midgardian, it won’t change the fact that your instincts are considerably lacking.”   
He stayed where he was and you knew he wasn’t willing to give up your clothes just yet. You doubted reaching for them would be enough to get what you wanted and you couldn’t seem to think of a way to get them. But your clothes weren’t the only things you wanted. There was one thing you craved even more.   
Thinking back to how quickly the prince wore a victorious smirk, as if the two of you were always caught up in some game you weren’t always aware of, you realized that maybe getting what you wanted with the prince was easier than it seemed - or at least simpler than you realized.   
“What do you say we play a little game wolf?”   
He cocked his head in interest, “What did you have in mind Midgardian?”   
You smiled. How had it taken you this long to realize that the way to get things done with the trickster god was through a little game and a little mischief?  
“I’m guessing you’re the one who has my daggers and even if you don’t, I know you have some clue as to where they are.” His smirk was enough to confirm your suspicion, “If I can guess when your company is an illusion then each time I guess right you give me one of my daggers back. And seeing as your illusions are so good, it shouldn’t be a problem for you right?”   
He shook his head, though the smile on his face didn’t fade but rather seemed to grow a little brighter, “Flattery won’t work Midgardian. And I don’t like the odds of your little game. You could simply get lucky, especially when you have nothing to lose in return.”   
“So does that mean you’re too scared to play against me?” You took a step forward, putting your hands on the pile of clothes, ready to take them back.   
Instead, he prowled even closer, forcing you to take a step back so that you were pinned in between his body and the doorframe. You were grateful for the pile of clothes creating a sort of buffer between your two bodies, but not because you were worried about your safety. It seemed that, despite the prince’s predatory demeanour, as long as you could see the mischief lighting up those green eyes, you knew with certainty that he was only playing some kind of game. It was only when that light was snuffed out would you need to worry, and thankfully, you had only seen that light extinguished that one time in the market.   
Regardless, your heart raced at his proximity and you tried to take in a steadying breath. His eyes were practically glowing emeralds and the slight turn of his lips let you know he was probably enjoying this more than you were. But if you were being honest with yourself, you might have been enjoying yourself just as much.   
“If you think taunting me is any better than flattery, you’re unfortunately mistaken.”   
You crossed your arms, hoping to put more distance between your two bodies, the smell of citrus and pine clouding your judgement, “So flattery and taunting don’t work. What does? Or does that mean you really don’t want to play?”   
“That isn’t what I said.” He paused to fix the fallen strap of your dress, his fingers sending unwanted shivers down your spine as he righted the material, “I simply said that I didn’t want to play for those terms.”   
“What do you you want to play for then?” You asked boldly, though your words came out a little breathless.   
His expression was a mask, unreadable except for the playful cunning you found in his eyes. You had no idea what he wanted from you, but you knew you had had to ask the question. You couldn’t begin to fathom what it was that he wanted, but when he didn’t speak right away, your mind began to picture horrifying scenarios, and others that didn’t horrify you half as much as you wanted them to. It was hard to tell if your racing heart was a good or bad thing.   
“Prince Loki. Ambassador (y/l/n). The king wishes to speak to you in the throne room.” A guard interrupted, standing awkwardly a few feet away.   
The prince took a step back, that roguish grin on his lips, “We’ll get back to this little conversation,” he vanished your clothing, “and your belongings later Midgardian. The king is an extremely impatient man, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”   
You glanced over at the guard to see how he would react to the prince’s inappropriate words but his face remained emotionless.  
Not trusting yourself to speak, you nodded and followed the two men. You had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into, and now that you had taken a step back and no longer felt the need to prove the prince wrong - and to play his little games - you realized your bold words had real world consequences. Getting in over your head would only be worth it if you could actually get all three of your daggers back.   
The hallway seemed to pass by in a blur and you tried to push all thoughts of the prince and his deal out of your mind. Whatever was going to happen in the throne room was going to be much worse than whatever games you were playing with the prince.   
The closer you got, the more rigid the prince’s posture seemed to become, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. His tense shoulders did nothing to reassure you that this was simply a social call from the king himself. You pulled at your dress, starting to regret your attempted rebellion. Maybe the prince had been right. If you had only waited another half hour, you might not have been called to the king. It was hard to believe cutting off the bottom two feet of your dress was a crime, but you were on such thin ice with the king that you wouldn’t put anything past him. He had the power to get you killed for whatever he damn well pleased.   
When you reached the massive gold doors, the guard walked in without hesitation but the prince stopped and glanced back at you. You couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes but you pulled your shoulders back and nodded. If the look was him asking if you were ready then that nod was the brave face you wanted to put on. And if, on the off chance he had looked to you for reassurance, then you were fine with your nod being that for him as well. Oddly, you felt as if the two of you shared a common enemy, even if that enemy was his father.  
As you walked up to the throne, the deal you made in your cell seemed to come alive inside you. You weren’t going to die here. The both of you were going to work together to get each other out of this if that’s what it took.   
You looked into Odin’s furious eyes and repeated those words in your head like a mantra. Because if you didn’t, the possibility of death seemed very, very imminent.


	6. An Arrogant King and an Icy Prince

The king sat, stiff-backed in his throne, lips drawn in a tight line. Whatever he was upset about, you had a feeling he wasn’t going to be in a forgiving mood. You could only hope it had nothing to do with you. Because if it did, there was a good chance you weren’t making it out of this throne room without an execution date hanging over your head. Or out at all.   
For the first time since arriving on Asgard, you felt the fight seep out of you. Incessantly worrying whether you were going to accidentally give the king a reason to end your life had been draining your energy more than you had realized. Realistically you knew you couldn’t spend the rest of the year this anxious, but you couldn’t take the easy way out. The easy way out meant that you stopped caring, but to stop caring meant certain death. You’d be dumb to think you had stayed alive this long not by fighting for it.  
So, you took in a sharp breath, rolled your shoulders back and waited for the king to speak. It wasn’t you place to speak first, you knew that much about royal etiquette. Yet it seemed that it wasn’t the prince’s either because he remained silent, his weight rocked back on his heels, still half bent in a mocking bow. If you didn’t know better, you might have believed his insouciant act. But you were standing so close that your fingers were almost touching his and you could feel the tension radiating from him in the barest space between your two bodies.   
You resisted the urge to reach for his hand, knowing you barely had to move at all to do it. You told yourself you only wanted to comfort the prince, but deep down you knew it wasn’t true. Whatever was enough to make the prince uneasy only served to make you twice as worried as you were before. If you were being honest, deep down, you were the one looking for comfort. It was getting hard to shake the feeling that this was going to be the last time you were ever called into the throne room - and not because you were suddenly prone to good behavior.   
Mustering every last bit of courage, you forced yourself to stop fidgeting and kept your gaze on the king. You refused to let anyone in the room believe they could intimidate you or that you couldn’t handle things on your own. Also, your steady gaze was the best way to fight the irritating need to look to the prince for reassurance. Luckily, the only way anyone could know how nervous you were was by taking hold of your sweaty palms. And the odds of the prince reaching out for your hand were as slim as the chances of the king immediately sending you back to Earth with a token of apology worth enough to buy you a new ship.   
Odin’s jaw worked as if he wasn’t sure where to start. Every time you thought he was about to say something, he let out a sigh and remained silent. His eyes travelled between you and the prince, giving you the impression that he couldn’t decide on who to berate first. Feeling like a child about to be scolded, you almost burst out into a fit of nervous giggles, but the lurking thought of death sobered you up before you could get yourself into any more trouble.   
“I have graciously allowed you to remain in my kingdom ambassador,” the king sneered your title as if he despised the fact that you had a one at all, “And this is how you repay me?”   
The king’s voice, although not loud, echoed throughout the mostly empty room and resonated through your chest, leaving you with a sick feeling in your stomach. You felt the prince relax - you had no idea why - but couldn’t find it in yourself to feel the same way. Your heart rate picked up and you could feel it hammering in your throat. You couldn’t remember the last time you had ever been this scared.   
You had to remind yourself that you had been in plenty of near-death situations and this was wasn’t any different simply because you were playing a long-term game instead of a short one. Normally you would have scoffed at the king’s words. He hadn’t given you anything, let alone having given it graciously. You were nothing more than a glorified prisoner here and everyone in the room was aware of it.  
When you finished scolding yourself for getting so easily intimidated, you narrowed your gaze and slowed your breathing. It was about time you remembered that you had to play by the rules of a prisoner and a thief and not the those of a true ambassador. You couldn’t forget how to play the game if you wanted to win it. Not when your life was on the line.   
“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” The king demanded, motioning for you to speak with a wave of his hand.   
You grit your teeth, trying to leash your growing frustration. Anger wasn’t going to serve you any better than fear in this situation. What you needed was an emotionless mask, but your feelings always seemed to boil over faster than unwatched milk left on a stovetop. It was hard not to look to the prince for guidance when he was the one person you knew whose face would be a veneer mixed of boredom and amusement.   
Odin tilted his head in a gesture that seemed to mean that he wasn’t going to say anything else until you did. The only problem was that you didn’t want to confess to a crime he wasn’t aware of, not that you were sure of what you had done to offend him in the first place.  
You lifted your chin a little higher, “I’m a little uncertain as to what exactly I’ve done to offend you, your Majesty.”  
The prince let out a sharp exhale. It seemed he hadn’t forgotten the intent behind your royal formalities.   
The king’s fingers tightened on the arm rest of his throne, knuckles whitening. “Would a mirror be an adequate reminder?”   
It didn’t take long for you to realize what he meant, and you felt the leash on your anger slip away as you growled, “The dress? You’re this upset over a ripped dress? Are my calves really so damn offensive to you and your backward 18th century ways?”   
You wanted to take the words back as soon as they escaped your lips, but it was too late. Your heart hammered so heard in your chest you were sure the prince could hear it, but you couldn’t look away from the king. Not now. Not when you had just taken a stand. No matter how much of a stupid stand it was.   
You had promised yourself a long time ago that you would stare death in the face until you were no longer alive to do it, so you squared your shoulders back a little more. You were too angry to be afraid now anyways. How dare he think it was acceptable to execute someone for altering a dress?   
The fury rolled off the king in waves, and if Odin had the strength to crush the throne beneath his fists you were sure he would have. Despite all your anger and bravado, you felt something stick in your throat when you tried to swallow. If you hadn’t been sure today was your last day when you had first walked into the throne room, you were damn sure of it now.   
You had just set your own death trap, and no one could save you - at least no one who wanted to could. You didn’t need to look over at the prince to know there was no concern for you on his face. If you were going to get out of this, it was going to have to be on your own.   
But when the king opened his mouth to speak, and you braced yourself for whatever he decided to do next, the prince stepped forward, silencing everyone with his simple movement. It seemed the king had either forgotten his son was there or hadn’t expected him to interfere.   
Either way, every set of eyes were now trained on the prince and the look on his face made you wonder how anyone could ever forget the prince was there.   
From your position slightly behind him, you could barely see the expression on his face, but it was enough to send chills down your spine. The vicious smirk was so terrifyingly empty and cold it was almost as if the air around him had dropped several degrees. You shivered. It was hard to believe you were still standing next to the same person. You were suddenly glad you had ever been on the receiving end of that look, realizing that if you had been, you probably wouldn’t have been standing here now, alive.   
“Father. I cannot believe you would be petty enough to find yourself upset over something so terribly minuscule. As you have reminded me multiple times, pettiness is a quality you so despise in your…” he paused as if trying to find the right word even if it was blatantly obvious he knew exactly what he was about to say, “son.”   
The momentary surprise you had felt at the prince’s step forward - the surprise that had made you wonder if he cared whether you lived or died - dissolved the second you realized he was only seizing the opportunity to get a jab in at his father. You should have known what he was up to the moment he moved. He may have made a deal with you to help protect his life if the occasion arose, but not because he cared but because he saw an opportunity and he took it. You couldn’t believe fear had made you lose your wits enough to think otherwise. Not that you wanted it to be otherwise you reminded yourself. You were both using each other as means to a nearly impossible end - thought you still had no idea what exactly the prince’s goal was.   
The king’s fingers loosened and smoothed across the gold throne as if his son’s disrespectful taunts were so familiar, they were almost calming. You didn’t see how anyone could be calm in the face of the prince’s terrifying sneer, and it occurred to you, as Odin let out a sigh saturated with disappointment, that maybe the king underestimated his son. You couldn’t decide whether that made the him ignorant or unwise.   
“I’ll get to you later Loki. As for the Midgardian,” he turned his hateful eye back towards you, dissolving any relief you might have felt while the spotlight was on the prince, “The ruined garments are an act of disrespect but tolerable best. But threatening to undress before the palace guards and any citizen who happens to walk by is unacceptable and beyond disgraceful. I should have you executed for the disrespect you have shown my generous hospitality and my kingdom.”   
You almost laughed in relief. He wasn’t going to kill you yet. The word should had never brought you so much joy in your life. There was a chance you’d live to see you ship again. Maybe the prince was right. Maybe you did have a knack at making it out alive.   
But the happy thoughts died the moment the prince whirled to face you, creating a broad barrier between you and the king that might have felt protective if it hadn’t been for the dangerous flare in his eyes. Though it looked nothing like the look he had shot the king, it wasn’t anything good either.  
“You did what?” The prince snarled, his voice low and dangerous so that only you could hear it.   
You crossed your arms, annoyed that he was killing the joyous realization that you were going to live past today.  
You spat back, “It was a threat. It’s not my fault the thought of seeing an earthling’s undergarments terrified him more than death. It was the easiest and most efficient way of getting what I wanted.” You could feel him trying to contain the anger bubbling beneath the surface, his eyes flashing with something that set those green emeralds on fire. “I don’t know why you’re so upset Wolf. And anyways, the guard is perfectly fine because someone interrupted me and gave me scissors instead.”   
The prince gritted his teeth, his jaw working as he seemed to chew on a handful of different responses - none of them pleasant you were sure - but Odin interrupted before he could say anything else.   
“Midgardian,”  
Loki whipped back around to his father but must have quickly realized that he was anything other than the perfect image of a stone-cold, emotionless asshat and smoothed down his shoulders with a breath. You had no idea why he had gotten so upset. It wasn’t like he was the one being scolded by two the different men who had forced him to wear a ridiculous dress in the first place. The thought alone made you want to plant one of your knives into the broad back you were now staring at just to see how it would affect a god like him. And also, to piss him off. A lot.   
The king interrupted your murderous daydreaming, “One more misstep and I will send you back to the dungeon to complete the remaining of your year, regardless of your position as ambassador.”   
The king’s words were all the dismal the prince needed to grab your arm and drag you toward the exit. You wanted to shove him off, pissed off and annoyed at just about everyone on this stupid planet, but the prince still seemed so worked up that you didn’t think you could shove him off - not without hurting him at least - if you tried. And you weren’t about to make a scene after barely making it out of this scandal alive.   
“Oh, and Midgardian,” the king called, freezing you and the prince with his voice as you reached the doors to the hallway.  
You let out a sigh and rolled your eyes, wondering why he couldn’t say everything he wanted to at once. Did he really think it was necessary to stop you every time you left this damn place? The logical side of your brain told you that it was his way of constantly showing off the power he had over you and his son, but the emotional side, pent up with anger and the desire to stab someone, told you that it was probably also some male ego thing. “If you happen to find yourself in the dungeon because of your reckless, human behavior, don’t think you can manipulate my son into letting you out again.”   
You felt the prince tense up beside you, the grip on your arm tightening to the point where it almost hurt. Glancing up at the prince, you noticed his face had gone cold, the only crack in his mask being the flaring heat in those green eyes. You could tell Odin’s absolute disregard for his son’s intelligence and cunning was killing him slowly, despite the fact that he probably knew it was best to be underestimated. You knew better than most how much the desire for recognition could outweigh almost anything. Even the desire for revenge. But the prince didn’t turn, rather tried to pull you out the door.   
Now overcome with anger, you shook him off and faced the king instead.   
“With all due respect your Majesty,” you sneered his title the same way he had yours, “If you believe that the prince could ever be controlled by anyone other than himself, then your arrogance has made you blind and deeply mistaken. I hope for your sake that you never fall on the wrong side of that wrath.”   
You spun on your heel, head held high, not wanting to see the aftermath of your words. Everything was a gold blur as you strode out of the throne room, barely noticing the prince close on your heels. Sure you had forgotten how to breathe, you only took in a gulp of air when you had made it far enough away from the throne room that you no longer felt like you had just jumped out of a plane without a parachute.   
Even though your heart still felt like it was hammering against a bass drum, the world around you finally came into focus and you felt like you could think again. But the more you thought about what you had just done, the less you knew why you had done it at all.  
All you knew for sure was that you were practically shaking with anger. Sentencing you to a year of imprisonment was somewhat understandable considering who you were and everything you had done in your life, but watching the king behave in the same way toward his own son had touched a nerve in you that you hadn’t realized was there. It didn’t matter what part the prince had played in getting you into this mess, you had seen too many similar family situations on earth to even begin to think that what you had just seen was okay.   
But the real question was: why had you defended him? There was no logical reason as why doing so would benefit you, especially that it had most likely only endangered you more.  
Maybe you had done it because the prince had stepped in earlier, even if it had been for his own reasons. Or maybe you had done it because you had felt, a moment before walking in, that your deal meant the two of you were a team. You quickly dismissed the thought. Rather, it had to be that your intense anger meant you were itching for a fight and there was no one you wanted to use your knives on more than the king himself. That was why you had done what you did. It had nothing to do with the prince himself. Nothing at all.   
Taking in a deep breath, you tried unfurling your hands after realizing they were fisted, but you couldn’t seem to calm yourself down. You didn’t have three strikes before you were out. This wasn’t baseball. These were the king of Asgard’s rules, and he was more intent on killing you than you had realized. No matter how angry it made you, you knew you’d have to start playing nice from now on if you didn’t want to end up in a dungeon. Or worse, dead.   
“Are you trying to get yourself noticed by everyone in the realm?” The prince growled, snapping you out of your thoughts.  
With a huff, you looked around to see what the hell he was talking about and noticed all the curious looks the passing citizens shot your way as you walked down the halls. “What do you think wolf? Of course not.”   
“Then it would seem,” he steered you down a more secluded hallway, “that torn up Asgardian clothes make you more noticeable than your Midgardian ones.”   
You stopped him by grabbing his forearm and stared at him in disbelief, “You’re worried about people looking at me funny? Are you serious right now? What the hell is wrong with you Loki? Did you not just hear what your father said to me about you?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, not that it looked like he was going to judging by the slow blink he gave you in response. “Do you not care how he treats you? I don’t care that you’re probably plotting some way of getting him back, how could you just stand there and take it?”   
He only watched your outburst with vacant eyes as if he wasn’t even listening. Out of breath and annoyed with him and his stupid, royal ass, you spun on your heel and stomped off, ready to be as far away from the throne room as was possible in your stupid prison.


	7. A God's Plan and a Mortal's Free Will

Loki shivered at the sound of his name on her lips. He couldn’t know for sure how long he had been waiting to hear it, but the longer she called him “prince” or “wolf," the more curious he became. It had caught him by surprise, in the middle of her rant like that, sounding in some way different to the countless other times he had heard it on Asgard, but he couldn’t pin point why. Something about her being a Midgardian, he supposed.   
She kept ranting on and on, hands clenched at her side the same way they were every time she was trying to tame her anger, but it was difficult to know what she was going off about since he had missed the beginning of what she was saying, too caught up in the sound of his own name.   
He wanted her to say it again — only out of professional curiosity of course — but the word “prince” broke through his trance and he knew he wouldn’t hear it again for a long time now, if ever. Whatever had made her slip up in that moment was long gone. It was probably for the best. Loki didn’t appreciate feeling so out of focus, caught up in alien thoughts and feelings. If he wanted to keep her alive to help him get out of the mess he was planning, he was going to need to stay alert and three steps ahead of everyone else. He couldn’t do that if he was preoccupied with banal thoughts.   
Loki knew she would hate the plan he had in mind but knew she would agree to it because she wanted her freedom more than anything else. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that her freedom was his most valuable bargaining chip. He figured, short of regicide, there wasn’t much she wouldn’t agree to — no matter how begrudgingly — if he guaranteed her freedom. And the freedom of one Midgardian was worth the price of what he had in mind.   
If he had any doubts about her ability to play her part in his plan, they had vanished the moment she stood up for him in the throne room. Anyone that mortal who could stand up to Odin and essentially threaten him was either stupid or incredibly brave. And Loki would not have let her out of the dungeon if he had thought she was stupid. After all, she couldn’t have become one of the most infamous thieves by being dumb.   
But it hadn’t been her bravery that had surprised him the most. It had been the fact that she had stood up for him, even if he was pretty sure she’d stab him if given the right opportunity. Loki hadn’t been too sure what to make of it, but quickly decided that the only reason acted the way she had was to get some form of revenge on Odin. He understood that all too well. What he didn’t understand was having someone other than his mother, and occasionally Thor, defend him. Which is why it hadn’t taken him long to come to the conclusion that he had just been a means to an end for her to get what she wanted — another thing he understood quite well.   
When she turned around and stopped, clearly surprised he wasn’t two steps behind her, Loki realized he had been so lost in his own mind that he had stopped moving all together.   
“I’ve found that ignoring him helps.” He offered vaguely, knowing he had to say something at least somewhat related to the rant she had started if he wanted to cover up the fact that he had let his guard down and hadn’t been listening.   
In a few quick strides, he caught up and she spun around on her heel like she was grounding an insect into the marble floor. He wondered if she believed she was any good at hiding her anger. Despite how difficult he found it to read her thoughts and emotions most of the time, her anger radiated like a neon sign. And at the moment, it was a massive, colour-changing, flashy sign.  
He felt himself smile. Her anger made things much more interesting. And much more fun. After what he had just gotten away with, he was looking for a way to celebrate his small victory. Annoying her seemed as amusing as any way to do it. Though if Loki was being honest with himself, he would have realized he was also looking for a way to take his mind off of his father for a short while.   
“Yeah well, ignoring him would be a lot easier if he stopped summoning me to the throne room like a circus monkey.” She snarled, her stomping echoing down the empty hallway.   
“Maybe if you stopped threatening to undress in front of the guards and everyone else in the palace, it wouldn’t happen so often.” He growled back, unable to hold back the wave of anger washing over him.   
She stopped, put a hand on her hip, head angled to the side, “It was one time. One time. And it wasn’t like I actually got undressed. And why should I have to explain myself to you anyways? I’m a grown woman capable of making her own damn decisions.”   
“You don’t have to explain yourself Midgardian, but I am curious to know what the hell went through your mind.” His voice was low and gruff in the back of his throat, coming from somewhere deep within him.   
“If you must know Wolf,” She took a step forward onto her toes so that she came as close to eye level as she could get, “I was a little desperate to get out of that cloth trap.”   
“If you were that desperate for relief Midgardian, you should have come to me.” Loki clicked his tongue, punctuating his sentence with an arrogant smirk in an attempt to remind himself that he didn’t actually care what she had done.   
She glared at him, taking the bait he had been hoping would rile her up even more, “Not that we’re talking about the same thing, but I tried that remember? You told me to leave you alone because it was too early in the morning.”   
“I seem to recall asking you to come in. We could have gotten you out of that trap quite easily. Dresses are much easier to take off with a second person involved.”   
She shook her head incredulously. Loki let his eyes wander down the length of the dress, that in no way suited her, and could tell he was doing an exceptional job at pissing her off by the way her breathing became slightly uneven. He couldn’t help but think that if she had come to him with the threat of getting undressed, she would have definitely been going in the wrong direction to scare him off.   
Widening his grin, he solidified his veneer so that she couldn’t tell that his mind had gone down a path he knew was far too dangerous. But even so, he couldn’t help voicing some of those thoughts, only because he knew how much it would annoy her.   
Dipping his head so that he was practically touching her ear with his lips, he purred, “I could have found something else for you to wear of course. I have many shirts that would fit you quite nicely.”   
She bristled and backed down, jaw tight and fist clenched at her side, eyes blazing. It was hard to believe that getting a reaction out of her was this easy.   
“You’re an insufferable prick.” She huffed.   
“I’ve been called worse. And by you I believe.” Loki winked and righted the fallen strap from her shoulder, her skin warm beneath his fingers.   
She swatted his hand away, but he could tell by how hard she hit him that she would have rather rammed one of her daggers clean through his hand instead. “I don’t doubt that. Now. Give me back my clothes.”   
“They’re this way.” He motioned for her to follow and set a leisurely pace he knew would drive her crazy. He wasn’t the one stuck in an uncomfortable dress. He had nowhere to be.   
She didn’t say anything else and he didn’t realize just how much he had been craving a moment to breathe after what had happened in the throne room. He tried to push it out of his mind and let it go, especially the part about the Midgardian threatening nudity, which, for some annoying reason, seemed to keep pestering him. Loki chalked it up to the fact that he had never been very good at letting things go. Whatever seemed to get to him had a bad habit of festering, and that wasn’t something he could afford to let happen now. Not with what he had planned. And not concerning something that shouldn’t have bothered him in the first place.   
Loki knew he could have easily conjured her clothing, but she seemed to have forgotten that it was something he could do. It was strange to him to be looked at, for lack of a better word, like a normal human. He knew he’d be fooling himself if he thought she hadn’t heard the rumours about him, but she looked at him with such unrestrained frustration in her eyes that he was pretty sure she didn’t care who he was or what he had been rumoured to do as long as she got to break his nose before the day was done. It seemed to him that she was the kind of person who would stab anyone who pissed her off, regardless of who they were and what they had done. He respected that. And if he was being honest with himself, Loki might have even admitted that he found the thought comforting. When he looked into her eyes, he didn’t see a menace staring back at him, which surprised him even more after having donned the cruelest and most detached mask he had when they were in the throne room. He knew she had seen it. He had felt her stiffen beside him.  
For a moment, Loki thought maybe her indifference was what had made him let her out of the dungeon, but he knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. He had done it because he needed a contingency plan, and she was the best way to piss Odin off simultaneously.  
Realizing that, once again, he had slowed from being lost in thought, he took in the back of that frayed violet dress and smirked. He hadn’t thought by taking her clothes the night before that she would have resorted to taking her anger out on the dress itself. He found the thought quite amusing until the solution to her plan and who she had done her little act of rebellion with snaked its way back into his mind.   
He could feel himself spiraling into a whirlpool of irritation and something else he couldn’t name until she spoke up, pulling him out before he could reach the deepest end of that spiral.   
“Pardon?” He asked, the world ebbing away from the darkness and back into focus.   
“I asked where your brother was.” He could tell her anger had diminished during their walk and was now replaced by curiosity, which he liked much, much less.   
He slid a wary glance at her, “Which brother?”   
She raised a brow, “Do you have more than one brother?”   
“No.” He grunted, feeling himself getting sucked back down into that dangerous, dark pool, “I don’t have any at all.”   
“The Almighty Thor. What does that make him?”   
He inhaled sharply, trying to keep his anger in check. “Adopted brother.”   
“Still makes him your brother,” she pointed out casually, not balking at the glare he couldn’t help but send her way. He should have known that Thor, being Thor, would find a way to become her center of curiosity, even millions of miles away.   
“So where is he then?”   
Loki couldn’t help the disgust in his voice when he sneered, “Probably off trying to save some poor hapless realm.”   
“And why aren’t you doing the same?” She looked up at him as they walked, no judgement on her face that he could see, only genuine curiosity.   
It wasn’t the look he had been expecting to see so instead of leering the words like he had intended, he practically sputtered, “Because I don’t feel the need to pretend to be a hero.”  
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice and rolled her eyes, “Sure you don’t.”   
He racked his brain for something to say to get her on the defensive. He didn’t know what to do when she looked at him in that unnerving, distracting way of hers, as if she actually wanted to know what was inside of him. Her questions had caught him off guard and had rattled him enough that he was a loss for words. It wasn’t something he was used to. Not at all.   
Loki decided to keep silent and focused on steadying his breathing, trying not to think too hard about what she meant. The Midgardian had no idea what she was talking about and he needed to remember that. She didn’t know him or anything about him, no matter how often she looked at him as if she could see beneath his protective mask.   
“That was sarcasm you know.” She informed when he didn’t speak up.   
“I know what sarcasm is. I’m no stranger to it.” He said indignantly, cursing himself once again for sounding anything other than calm and slightly bored.   
She raised a brow, “Then what’s with the weird look on your face?”   
“Disbelief that you would believe that I, of all people, wouldn’t know what sarcasm is.” He recovered, picking up the pace so that she would have to work to keep up with his long strides.   
“Okay…” She rolled out the word as if it wasn’t what she wanted to say but didn’t want to press the matter any further.   
Loki almost sighed with relief.   
“Where are we? And how far away are my clothes?” She looked around the plain hallway, busy with maids, cooks and other members of the palace staff.   
“Still in the palace. And not far. Though I’m not taking you to them just yet,”   
Skidding to a stop, she went to reach for something in her boot but paused with a clenched fist halfway through the motion, glaring at him instead from her half-bent position. If he had to guess, he would have said that she just remembered that she no longer had any of her weapons and wasn’t too pleased about it. That neon sign was getting brighter by the second.   
He grinned.   
Taking those daggers away was probably the smartest thing he could have done for his personal safety. Not that she posed much of a threat but was still a threat all the same. Despite how tempting it had been to set her lose on all the incompetent socialites for pure entertainment alone, he knew doing so would have interfered with his plans. Even if it would have made his days more interesting to watch her pull a knife on everyone who insulted her.   
“Where are you taking me exactly?” She demanded, then recoiled as she asked, “Not another party?”   
He gestured to her gown. “Looking like that? Absolutely not.”  
She glowered, seeming more than a little fed up about the comments regarding her looks. It made him want to smile.  
“If not a party then where Wolf?” Her words came out more like an exasperated sigh than a question.   
“You’ll see.” He danced around the answer knowing the longer he did so, the more riled up she would become.   
“Do you need really need to be so cryptic?”   
“Yes.”   
She stopped and gripped his arm, nails digging into the sleeve of his tunic. He paused, focused only on the pressure of her fingers on his arm until her words shook him from his trance. “Remind me to stab you when I get my knives back. Please Wolf. Please remind me.”   
“I’ll keep that in mind Midgardian, not that I think you need reminding.” He chuckled, pleased with himself that he had managed to get that look on her face using only a few words and a knowing grin. “But speaking of your knives, we never did set the terms for our little agreement.”   
A wary look crossed her face, “What did you have in mind.”   
“Nothing horrifying.” He replied disinterestedly, though he had really said it to wipe that look off her face. It was a look that was too close to fear, and though he had never seen her afraid when she looked at him — even the first time she had realized who he was — he didn’t want to see anything even remotely similar there. Fear turned to resentment, and he told himself that the reason he couldn’t have her truly hate him was because he still needed her to properly execute his plan. It was the only reason, he convinced himself. The only reason.   
“I wasn’t worried,” she ground out and sized him up in a way that shouldn’t have made him want to let out a breath of relief, “But with that look on your face you can understand why I would be…concerned.”   
He cocked his head, “What look?”   
“Like a kid that just put a thumb tack on their professor’s chair.” She said, gesturing vaguely at his face. “The wide, Cheshire Cat grin that seems to make the corners of your eyes crinkle and the way those eyes light up like someone set fire to the Emerald City? You know, that look? The trickster look.”   
Loki took a moment to mull over her words and decided to focus on the first part of what she said; the part he actually understood, “I can’t say I’ve ever done such a thing.”   
She didn’t look like she believed him. “I’m sure that’s only because you’ve done so much worse.”   
He chuckled, thinking back to particularly clever trick he had done when he was eight involving Thor and a snake. “It was all in good fun Midgardian.”  
“I’m sure it was.”   
“It was to me.”   
She scoffed.   
He grinned.   
She squinted at him for a second longer as if wanting to decide that he really wasn’t up to no good then rolled her eyes to the sky in defeat before stalking off, “So, you were saying, terms?”   
“Ah, yes. Terms. I believe yours favoured you far too much.”   
“And yours won’t do the same for you?” He could hear her steps getting heavier and heavier, pounding into the ground as if it was the one driving her irritation.   
He practically flounced beside her, “I can assure you, mine will be fair.”   
“You know Wolf, it’s funny, but I don’t trust a word you say.”   
Loki forced to keep the smile on his face and further leaned back into the arrogant swagger he had already been laying on thick. He didn’t quite understand why her words bothered him when he knew that he wasn’t trustworthy to begin with. He had come to terms with the fact that that was who he was. That she agreed to the fact shouldn’t have bothered him.   
“Normally, you’d be right no to Midgardian, but there is no reason for this little game of ours not to be fair. Reminding you that I can win even when fighting fair will be so much more satisfying.”   
Her lips were drawn in a tight angry line but still she looked at him as if she was trying to look past the facade and into his soul. Her body was motionless, like a hunter watching her prey, waiting for the moment he would slip up. The longer her scrutinizing gaze tried to dissect him, the more unnerved he felt. But he didn’t look away. Loki was never one to look away first. He fought the urge to shift his weight and did his best to appear as calm as possible.   
Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he somehow managed to lift a brow and drawl, “What? No witty retort Midgardian?”   
With one last, long look at him she shook her head and kept walking. “Tell me the terms Wolf.”   
He let out a small, barely audible sigh to relieve some of the pressure building inside his chest and reminded himself that he could have easily kept walking despite the fact that she had stopped. He had no idea why he felt the need to stop every time she did.   
Loki decided the terms to their agreement really would be fair. He didn’t know why he had initially said they would be, it wasn’t like him, but he couldn’t back down now. Maybe he had always wanted a fair fight and realized that he had always been looking in the wrong place to find it. Maybe, for the first time he didn’t want to use his own tricks and follow his own rules because he didn’t want to be unfair to his opponent. No, he thought, it had to be the former.   
“I will give you one of your daggers back whenever you correctly guess one of my illusions.” He began to explain, “As long as you don’t use them on me afterwards of course.”   
“Can’t promise you anything Wolf.” She grinned, seemingly genuinely amused by the thought of his pain.”   
He couldn’t help but get drawn in by her brutal honesty and the smile that lit up her face and found himself doing the same. And when she said, “But you still haven’t told me the catch to your terms yet prince” he couldn’t help but think that maybe she wouldn’t make it as easy as he first thought it would be.   
“You’ll have thirty seconds to guess that I’m not truly standing before you if you want one of your daggers. And,” He emphasized the word with a raised finger before she could protest, “Every time you guess wrong, you have to make up for it with another right answer. Only then can you get your precious dagger back. Call it a precaution against you guessing that I’m an illusion every time you see me. Understand, it simply wouldn’t be any fun if you did.”   
She let out a sharp breath and crossed her arms, “And you think that’s fair.”   
“My life is in danger if you get one back,” He shrugged, though his words weren’t quite true.   
She shot him an unimpressed look. “You seem terrified.”  
“I’m trembling right now, can’t you tell?” His mocking words broke the scowl on her face, and he noticed the corners of her lips begrudgingly turn up.   
“Are you now?”   
He nodded, “I am. I can’t barely stand I’m so terrified of the infamous Midgardian and her deadly skills with a blade.”   
“Sure, you are,” she laughed, starting to play along, “Is that a slight tremor I hear in your voice?”   
He was about to answer but stopped, struck by the look she had on her face. It was one he had rarely seen and didn’t recognize it until it vanished as quickly as it appeared.   
“What?” Her brows furrowed, “What’s wrong?”   
It took him a moment to realize he’d been staring at her smile. He had only seen the one time when she had torn off the bottom half of her dress and hadn’t realized he had been watching.  
He extended his hand, hoping to blow past his small lapse in judgement by getting back to the matter at hand.   
“I’m only giving you the time to consider the terms, that’s all. What do you say Midgardian?”   
She looked down at his hand with pursed lips and reluctance in her eyes. He couldn’t help but think that she looked at it the same way he had looked at the vegetables on his plate as a child, knowing they were a terrible means to a delicious dessert. Recognizing that look, he no longer doubted that she wouldn’t agree to play along with him. Because if that was, in fact, the same look…well Loki had always gotten dessert.   
She sighed, “I don’t have any other options, do I?”   
“No.”   
“And I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”   
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “Most likely.”   
She sighed. “Well, I guess that settles it then.”  
Her hand stayed at her side and she kept staring at his as if it was the only way to persuade her own hand to move.   
He raised a brow, not that she could see it she was so focused on his hand and the two-foot gap between their bodies. “Any day now Midgaridan.”   
Her eyes lifted to look up at him through her lashes, eyes sparked with irritation. She clenched and unclenched her jaw, then forced her hand to meet his, moving quickly as if afraid she would change her mind.   
“Fine. We have a deal, Wolf.” She squeezed his hand a little harder than necessary, “If I guess right within thirty seconds, without having guessed wrong before, you give me back a dagger.”   
“Agreed.”   
“Okay then.”   
She was about to let go but he held on, easily keeping her hand captive in his large one, “Just so you know, I would have agreed to a minute instead to thirty seconds.”   
Her nostrils flared, and probably for the millionth time since he met her, she looked like she was about to hit him. It was probably the reason why he shot her the kind of grin he assumed was the reason she kept calling him Wolf.


	8. A Game of Questions and An Impossible Bet

You adjusted the hood of your sweatshirt and relished in the feel of the soft, unrestrictive material. The prince had given you back your clothes about three weeks ago, but because of the conditions he had made you abide by for their return, you still let out a sigh of relief every time you wore your own clothes. You had never known you could care so much about an ancient hoodie and a pair of cargo pants. His two conditions had caught you by surprise, but you should have known he wouldn’t give anything for you for free. The first being that you followed him to an undisclosed location, which, after stressing for the two-minute walk to get there, had mercifully turned out to be the laundry room. The second was that you wear the Asgardian dresses to any and all events you accompanied him to.  
He had stressed, as he introduced you to the maids in charge of the washing – it was important you didn’t disturb their routine - that you could in no way, shape or form alter the dresses you were given. It had been a compromise you had readily made, despite having wanted to wipe that cocky grin from his face.  
When you had collapse onto your bed later that night, the tension from the day escaping your lips in a loud exhale, you noticed a pile of the clothes on the dresser that hadn’t been there before. You hadn’t known if he had done it because he had felt bad for you (unlikely) or if it was his way of showing you that he had wanted to mess with you by only giving you dresses when you first arrived (more likely), but along with the fancy dresses were loose pants and soft shirts. Although most of it appeared to be male apparel, at least it meant you weren’t stuck doing laundry every second day.   
Compared to how the rest of the day had gone, it was such a needed reprieve that you’d gone to bed feeling lighter than you had since crashing on Asgard. You had fallen asleep with a smile on your face, not waking until the prince knocked on your door the next afternoon. At the sight of your drowsy, bedraggled look, an amused look had crossed his face, and he had told you to get ready for the first of what felt like an endless string of parties and ambassadorial duties since then.   
The meetings weren’t as bad as the parties. The parties were less formal, which meant some of the attendees felt more at ease with gawking and asking you questions meant to make themselves look superior. At least in a more professional setting like the meetings, you almost felt like a real ambassador, explaining Earth’s defense mentalities and anything else you could share about Earth’s general functioning that might hinder a relationship between the two planets. It made you glad you had still been keeping tabs on the news from Earth while you were out on your last job   
The luncheon this morning had mainly consisted of your aristocratic nemesis and her trusty side kick shooting you dirty looks from across the table. It probably would have upset her to know that your discomfort had stemmed from the dress you had been wearing rather than her looks, but you had chosen to ignore her instead. It seemed like the least exhausting solution.   
Although you had been wanting to get out the minute you had arrived at the luncheon, at least it had been calm and uneventful.   
It hadn’t been half as eventful as your event the day before. 

Yesterday

“Where are you taking me now?” It didn’t matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to shake the uncertainty from your voice.   
At least you had managed to keep it from quivering. You had woken this morning with strange feeling in your gut and the prince had knocked on your door to bring you to your daily event, telling you to get dressed in your own Midgardian clothes. The break in the familiar had rattled you to your bones. Something was up and you felt like the joke would be on you.   
He had drawled, “You’re going to love this. Now get dressed before we’re late,” and flashed you that coy, knowing grin, which had done nothing to settle your unease.   
Fifteen minutes later, you still had no clue where you were going and the fact that you couldn’t plan how to best handle what was coming next meant you couldn’t calm at least some of that sense of dread. Being able to plan was better than being taken by surprise, no matter what you were walking into.   
Of course, you should have expected his answer when he said, “I thought you were smarter than to ask Midgardian. You should know I never tell you until we get there.”   
“You say dumb, I say persistent.” You said, too jittery to get upset over his words.   
He stopped and titled his head, a strange look on his face, “How about we settle on stubborn then.”   
“That seems about right.” You mumbled, taking in your surroundings and trying to guess what was going to happen behind the plain door you were about to enter.   
The hallway you had taken to get here was part of a building you had never gone into before, seeing as it was about a fifteen-minute walk from the palace. The hallways were deserted and most of the doors were closed. The few people you had crossed on your way up the two floors and through the maze-like building were all young and carrying books. Something about the place felt familiar, but not enough for you to figure out why exactly. But even that small sense of familiarity did nothing to sooth the queasy feeling in your stomach.   
His hand was on the handle and you thought he was going to open the door, but he paused and turned to face you. Your heart pounded against your rib cage as if it were trying to escape and you tried to calm yourself. You had no idea why you were on the verge of panicking and wiped your clammy hands on your pants in a poor attempt to regroup.   
“Can you just get on with it. The faster we get this done, the faster I can stop wasting my time.” You growled, though the lump in your throat seemed to take away some of the usual bite in your words.   
It seemed your worry hadn’t escaped his notice and his lips spread into that especially cocky grin he seemed to reserve for when he really wanted to annoy you. “If I had known bringing you here was exactly what I needed to do to terrify you, then I would have done it sooner.”   
You could feel his smile and words eating at your pride.  
Your fear slowly made way for anger. “I’m not terrified.”   
“Could have fooled me. Although… judging from the look in your eyes, I’d say that you’d like to stab me right about now Midgardian. But it’s quite difficult to do without your daggers no?” He continued gleefully, recalling the two times he had met you at your door as an illusion and you hadn’t suspected anything. It wasn’t the first time he had brought it up since then and you doubted it would be the last. “Professional word of advice Midgardian, wipe that scowl off your face before we walk in.”   
Before you could wipe that stupid grin off his, he opened the door and strode in, hands in his pockets as if he owned the place. The room quieted the second the front row recognized him, and you were struck with the realization as to why the place felt so familiar.   
You had walked into a large classroom of about seventy-five students, the layout similar to the university classes you had attended before finding a much more lucrative and exciting job elsewhere.   
The prince waltzed over to stand in the center of the front of the class and with a slight tilt of his head, the words “Studies of the Nine Realms: Earth” was written across a board you could have sworn was an actual chalk board. The words were all the confirmation you needed to know that you hadn’t been overreacting earlier, and you should have feigned food poisoning the moment you suspected you’d regret getting out of bed this morning.   
“Hello class,” His smile seemed docile, but you could see the mischief behind it, clear as day, as if it was meant for you. It probably was. “If I may interject, I’ve brought a special guest for today’s lecture. Feel free to ask her all of your questions. None are too small, too large or too stupid.”   
He walked towards you and for a second you were afraid he was going to leave you all alone - even if the thought made you feel weak for wanting him to stay - but he whispered, “The next hour is all yours Midgardian. Make it a show worth watching.”   
The hand he placed on your back was gentle, but the message was clear. The stage was yours. You remembered his professional advice and stopped yourself before you could glare at him. Though it didn’t stop you from giving him the finger before you walked off, betting on the fact that he’d be the only one in the room to get what you meant. He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly as if trying to stop himself from laughing.   
The wide desk in the center of the room created somewhat of a barrier between you and the inspecting faces so you sat down behind it and hoped your legs would stop trembling. At least this way they couldn’t see them if they didn’t.  
If you had thought your presentations in high school were stressful, they had done nothing to prepare you for how small you felt staring back at seventy-five college students, trying not to show them how nervous this all made you. With a deep breath, you straightened your posture and forced a smile you hoped didn’t look like a grimace.   
“hi,” the word came out so garbled you weren’t sure anyone heard so you cleared your throat and tried again, louder this time, “Hi. Um, any questions?”   
About forty different hands shot up at once. You began to fiddle with the hem of your sweatshirt, trying to keep yourself distracted. You had been hoping that no one would take an interest in you, leaving the prince with no other choice but to admit that his little plan had been a bust, but clearly that had been too much to hope for.   
Scanning the crowd, you searched for the most innocent looking face and pointed to a small, mousy looking girl with frizzy brown hair in the front row.   
All the hands dropped, and she smiled shyly, “Is it true that Midgardians don’t live past the age of 100?”   
A puff of air escaped your lips, some of the shaky panic easing. The question may have been a little ominous and morbid, but at least it was one you could easily answer, “Um, well some live past that but the average life span is um, something like seventy I think?”   
The girl nodded, seeming more than a little concerned, but the hands all around her shot up and you knew you needed to move on. The next few questions were more or less the same as the ones you had been answering at the meetings and parties. There were very few interesting ones but the more familiar the questions, the easier this particular ambassadorial assignment felt - not that it was ever easy or pleasant. At least you were in your own clothes, though you knew the prince had only made that call because it lent more authenticity to your position and not because of your personal comfort.   
“I heard you sleep for about 80% of the day, is that true?” One of the students in the back asked when you called on him.   
From the corner of your eye you noticed that the Prince had moved from the door to the back corner of the room so that he’d be in your line of vision. Even from afar you could see the ghost of a smirk on his lips and it made you want to pause this whole charade to curse him out. You hadn’t forgotten that he had been the one to start that particular rumor. It seemed he hadn’t either. Leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into his pockets, he reminded you of the resident bad boy, that allure dangerous yet irresistible. Except that he was resistible, you reminded yourself, because you weren’t charmed by it. You had more common sense than that.   
You shook your head, tearing your attention away from the prince, “No it isn’t. I sleep between six to eight hours a night but can survive on much less if need be.”   
The student’s friend elbowed him in a manner that seemed to say I-told-you-so so he elbowed him back. It was nice to know that not everyone had believed that rumor so readily. Moving on to the next question you wondered how long you had been answering questions for. It felt like you had been there for over an hour, but you had to assume the worst and guess you had only been sitting there for fifteen minutes.   
“Do all Midgardian women dress like men?” A particularly beautiful red head asked when you called on her.   
You forced yourself to keep your eyes on the student, but you could feel the prince’s roguish grin grow, “No. But on Earth pants aren’t really gendered anymore, I guess. Most people where them.”   
Another girl in the front row had her hand raised high, practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for you to call on her. You had been avoiding her from the beginning because of a gut feeling that you wouldn’t like her question, but you figure you had put this off long enough.   
“What was the gesture you gave the prince before coming to the front of the room?” She asked.   
You almost laughed with relief. “Just an inside joke between me and the prince. It has nothing to do with Earth’s customs.”   
A snort sounded from the back of the room and you unwittingly found Loki’s gaze from across the room. His face was a mask of boredom, but you knew the sound had come from him. Now that you could always see him, it was as if you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. And as annoying as he was, it was kind of nice to see a familiar face in the crowd.   
“What’s a rubber duck for?” Someone else called.   
Your gaze drifted to the prince and he raised a brow as if to say, go on Midgardian, tell the people what they want to know. You were now convinced he had moved to the back so you could see him laugh at you the whole time. Or to be the biggest possible distraction. Either way, it was working because he seemed to be having a great time and you couldn’t seem to focus on the students.   
You answered vaguely and moved onto the next question.  
“Can Midgardian’s travel the realms or are their bodies too weak to make it from one planet to the other?” A brown-haired guy with large glasses asked.   
The question made you want to smack your forehead in disappointment. Instead, you glanced at the back corner of the room. Loki’s lips were pressed together in a wide smile and he looked down at the ground to try and hide his amusement, as if this had been exactly the kind of question he had been hoping to torture you with.   
You narrowed your eyes at him when he looked back up, but felt yourself begin to relax, his own amusement softening you up a little. He shrugged as if to say, what can you do, some of them are idiots.   
Pursing your lips, you tried to hold back a smile before answering, “Yes. If we couldn’t, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”   
The class burst out into giggles and the guy who had asked the question ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact. Their response filled you with more confidence and you heard yourself asking “who’s next?” with more enthusiasm than you thought possible. The prince cocked his head, a bemused expression on his face.   
“Can Midgardians have sex with Asgardians?” A deep voiced called out from somewhere in the middle of the crowd, taking you and the other students by surprise. It stunned everyone into silence for a moment, all other hands falling.   
Scanning the crowd for the guy who voiced the question, you let out an “um” wishing you could have come up with a better response. At the sound of your discomfort, a few awkward chuckles and whispers filled the room. You looked around the room, trying to judge the reactions to the question in order to eliminate certain students as the culprit. Without a face to tailor your response to, you could feel yourself grappling for the right thing to say.   
“I won’t answer questions if you don’t raise your hand first.” You finally tried, hoping your middle school teacher’s technique to shutting down smartass questions would work, even on a different planet.   
A beefy, square shouldered Asgardian lifted his hand, slouched back in the chair with his chin tilted up arrogantly. “Are you saying that because you don’t know the answer? Because I’d be more than willing to help you test that out.”   
A few snickers filled the air but mercifully, most of the class seemed as unamused by his remarks as you were. But before you could even think of an answer, the prince snapped off the wall, the lightning fast movement silencing everyone like a gun shot. The atmosphere in the room changed immediately, as if everyone suddenly remembered the reason you were there in the first place.   
The idiot who had asked the question swallowed visibly, his sneer gone as quickly as the prince had moved. Despite being the reason for the dangerous tension in the room, the prince had never taken his hands out of his pockets. His feigned nonchalance didn’t fool anyone, and you figured it had to do with the terrifying sneer on his lips. It was only a shadow of the look you had seen him shoot his father, but you suspected it was only because he knew the barest sliver of that look was enough to do the trick with these students. On you though, it had the opposite effect.   
Your shoulders dropped, the tension flowing from your body as he strolled up to stand beside you. He never took his eyes off of the students, even if his words were addressing you, “I apologize for the interruption, but you’re needed elsewhere ambassador. And I’m well aware of how busy you are with your duties and would be more than happy for you to send me any student who comes to you with more questions.”   
He stepped forward, granting you permission to leave but stayed a second longer to fully address the students, “Thank you for your participation. Class is dismissed.”   
The rustling of papers and the sound of people standing made you walk out faster, but you stopped as soon as you made it out the door. You had no idea how to get back to the palace. Looking around, you tried to spot the prince but couldn’t find him in the sea of people. You wondered how you had lost him so easily. At the beginning of your search a guy had stopped beside you as if waiting to ask a question and he hadn’t left so you sighed and turned, “Can I help you?”   
“Midgardian,” he tutted, “You didn’t think I would let you get ambushed on your way out did you?”   
The man talking was a complete stranger, but that lilting speech wasn’t. You stared wide-eyed at the meek looking student, “Wolf?”   
“Don’t look so surprised,” he gestured for you to follow him down the hall, “Just because we look different does not mean I’m any more inclined to take your hand and guide you back to the palace.”   
When you walked past a particularly reflective window you noticed he had disguised you in the same way he had when you had first been let out of the dungeon, and apart from a few curious looks, you made it back to the palace uninterrupted.   
“Enjoy the rest of your day Midgardian.” With a little nod, he walked off, the world shimmering green around you and the prince.   
Even without looking at your reflection, you knew that you had returned to normal as surely as you had glimpsed the prince’s handsome feature before he had walked off. Even though all you wanted to do was shower and nap, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that he had walked away. As you opened the door to your bedroom, you told yourself that the only reason you felt that way was because, at least with him around, your days were a little less boring. 

The book you were going through wasn’t telling you anything you didn’t already know, so you closed it and opened another one. When you had woken from your nap it had been raining and instead of doing nothing all day, you had decided to go to the library. If you couldn’t go out and look for your ship, then you could at least figure out the best and quickest way to fix it. And if you were really lucky, maybe find a way to make it back to Earth without needing that replacement part. It was a far stretch, but it made you feel like you were at least doing something to get your freedom back.  
Although you were desperate for a way off of Asgard, mechanics had quickly started to bore you, so you had begun picking through books about the palace and the royal family. You were going over a particularly interesting passage about Odin’s collection of war prizes when you felt a presence looming over your shoulder.   
You shut the book, using a loose piece of paper as a bookmark, “Hello Asger. We missed you at yesterday’s meeting.”   
Although you had spoken the words to flatter and distract him, it didn’t make them any less true. The events were always easier with an ally at your side, and although the prince may have intervened on your behalf once or twice, he mainly opted for letting you fight your own battles. Not that you didn’t think you were capable of doing so, but it was nice to have someone around that meant your guard didn’t have to be held up quite as high.   
“Hello (y/n). Unfortunately, I had a prior engagement or else I would have attended. What are you up to?”   
“Oh, you know…” You waved a hand casually as if to say a little bit of this and that, giving yourself some time to think of a credible lie, “Just brushing up on this planet’s history. I feel like I should know something about the people I’m teaching about Earth. It only makes sense, right?”   
He nodded enthusiastically, eating up your words. You knew one person in particular who would have scoffed at your words, calling bullshit as soon as they came out of your mouth, but he wasn’t here to roll his eyes at you. Without him, you easily got away with the weak lie rolling off your tongue.   
When you suggested that Asger take the only other free seat at your table, it was as if your thoughts had conjured the prince and he appeared, taking a seat before Asger moved.   
“Maybe another time Asger.” He drawled, “The Ambassador and I have some business to attend to.”   
Asger’s lips formed a tight line but he nodded. “I understand. I will leave you to it then. (Y/n) I hope to see you at the next party.”   
“Oh, you can count on it.” You said, pointedly glaring at the prince instead of the person you were supposed to be talking to.  
The prince broke your staring contest for a second to wave at Asger, his fingers folding over like a child waving. “Have a nice afternoon Asger.”   
You watched him leave and remembered to offer him your best apologetic smile, the kind you always seemed to be giving him when the prince was around. When Asger was out of sight and earshot, you whirled back to the prince.   
“This better be good Wolf.”   
He said nothing and stared at you for what felt like an eternity. You decided that continuing to glare at him was the best course of action, refusing to speak first. Just as you were about to break, he shook his head in disappointment, and it was only when you noticed him begin to fade did you realize what had just happened.   
“Wait!” You shouted, shooting out your hands to stop him.  
The few other people around turned to shoot you dirty looks.   
With another apologetic smile, you placated the other library goers and went back to observing the image that had so kindly obeyed your command. Like the two other times he had come to you as an image, you couldn’t find anything amiss with what you saw before you. The only time you had managed to possibly see a difference was before your bet, when you had had both the real and fake prince side by side. Even the way he drummed his fingers impatiently on the table was Loki. You knew you were missing something, and you needed to figure out what it was if you wanted to have a fighting chance at getting at least one dagger back.   
You looked into his eyes, searching. It was possible you were imagining things, but the longer you peered into those emerald pools, the more you thought that they didn’t quite burn as bright as they usually did. Maybe your problem was that you were spending too much time looking at the physical and not the soul burning within.   
The real prince walked up, replacing the image before you and you shook your head, deciding you were imagining things. There was no difference between this prince and the now faded image. At least you were pretty sure there wasn’t. You groaned. This bet was going to be impossible.   
“Remind me again how you chose when and where to be an image?”   
He shrugged, “Sometimes I like to be places before I actually get there.”   
You nodded slowly, taking in his words, “And what was the reason for that now?”   
“Nothing of importance.” His said in a low voice, his eyes darkening.   
For a flash you thought you saw a difference in the prince now and the one before, but it was hard to know without them standing side by side. All you knew for sure was that he was lying. Or at least not fully telling the truth. You couldn’t think of any reason as to why he wouldn’t be. You weren’t too sure what had tipped you off either. It seemed that maybe you were beginning to be read the prince better than you had thought possible. You guessed the reason had to be a mix of the look in his eye and the feeling in your gut, but ultimately it didn’t matter how you knew. What you really needed to know was what he was trying to cover up. Because as much as he was starting to feel like the kind of ally he had promised the two of you would be, you knew he was only looking out for himself.   
“Interesting read you’ve got there Midgardian.” He had picked up the book you’d been reading and had it open to the page you had bookmarked, “Planning on making the most of our time here, are we?”   
Grabbing the book, you snapped it shut and wished you could make it vanish. “No. It’s just reading.”   
“Too bad. If you ever need a guide…” He paused, eyes sparkling as he let you fill in the blanks.   
“Do I need to remind you what would happen if we were seen there? Together?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer your rhetorical question. “It’s death just so you know.”   
“For you probably. But I, on the other hand, am much harder to kill.”   
“Then why make a deal with me if you’re so good at staying alive?” You asked haughtily. “You need me alive. You wouldn’t dare go down there with me.”   
“Not need, Midgardian. Want.” He corrected, snatching the book back and flipping through its contents lazily.   
The smell of old books wafted towards you and though the smell usually calmed you, it did nothing to smother the question that had been burning at the back of your mind for months now. What did he want you alive for?   
However, you knew he would never answer your question, even if you did ask, so you opted for the never-failing sarcastic response instead.   
“Aw prince, you want me. That’s so flattering.” You put your hand over your heart with a dry laugh.   
His gaze snapped up from the book, eyes now a dark green and filled with something unrecognizable that made everything inside of you tighten. Whatever sarcastic comment you were going to add died in your throat and you swallowed thickly.   
“What can I say Midgardian, I aim to please.” He purred.   
“That’s a lie.” You managed.   
He chuckled lightly, “It is.”   
“That’s what I thought.” You crossed your arms, trying to find stability to counter the look that had sent you off kilter.   
He titled his head, brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed slightly in interest, “If you don’t mind me asking, why would that be?”   
You leaned forward so he would know you meant every word, “Because you seem to be the kind of person to make someone scream instead.”   
“And is that such a bad thing? If you ask me, those two things aren’t that far apart.” He leaned closer, those canines flashing before he crooned, “I can prove it to you if you don’t believe me.”   
You felt a clenching deep inside you, no matter how annoyed you were at him for twisting your words. You tried to ignore it, but it was hard to do with him so close, looking at you like he wanted nothing better than to prove you wrong.   
“I didn’t. Ask you I mean,” You stammered, your voice barely a whisper. At least you managed to hold his stare, refusing to back down. “I don’t need proof.”   
He leaned back lazily, tipping the chair onto its two back legs, “That’s too bad.”   
“What are you doing here Wolf?” You blurted, trying to get ahold of the conversation again.   
There was no way he had come here to taunt you and you needed to focus on that. Not on the topic that, despite all your aversion to it, seemed to make you shiver in response, even if you knew he wasn’t being serious. Even if you knew you didn’t want him to be serious. But his words had dug up the image of him shirtless from the dark corner of your mind, and the memory didn’t seem to want to go back to where it belonged.   
This whole conversation was only making you more and more annoyed. You didn’t even know why the thoughts kept popping up. He made you far too angry, far too often for you to even think about taking anything he said seriously. Not that you would have even if he didn’t.  
Pulling in a deep breath of air as you clenched your fist, you held it and then released both, ignoring the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out your tell, not that it was subtle in the least.   
He shrugged. “I had some spare time on my hands and decided to say hi.”   
“Really. Somehow I find that hard to believe.”   
He blinked slowly, then dipped his head as if amending that he had been lying, “I also wanted to give you the chance to get your daggers back. It wouldn’t be fair of me if you never saw an illusion, even if it would guarantee my safety.”   
The thought was one that had crossed your mind when you had agreed to the deal, but you knew you had to risk him not playing fair, only because it would be your best opportunity, even if it might not have been an opportunity at all. You had taken a chance on him, knowing a chance was better than nothing.   
“You seem surprised Midgardian.”   
You nodded.   
He shut the book, the sound echoing in the silence. “You should know I always keep my word.”   
Surprised by the honesty you found when you looked into his eyes you murmured, “I guess I should.”   
He held your gaze not saying anything.   
“Is that really the only reason?” You whispered when he had been silent for too long.   
Your words seemed to catch him off guard and he cleared his throat, “I also wanted to tell you that I’m going to be gone for the next three weeks.”   
“Where to? You asked, your suspicions flooding back.   
“None of your concern.”   
You lifted your hands in the air in exasperation, “Then why tell me wolf?”   
What you really wanted to ask was whether he was telling you this so that you could escape with him, but you knew you had to quash that hope. There was no universe in which that hope was true.   
“I’m telling you so that you don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. You’ll be surprised to know, but I do protect my investments.”   
Something in you deflated at the word investment but you didn’t acknowledge it. It was only the disappointment from knowing you weren’t about to escape. “That is surprising because you don’t do much protecting when you are around.”   
“Is that so?” He sighed, looking extremely annoyed, “If you don’t believe me then think of the next three weeks as a break from having to be an ambassador.”   
“That I can get on board with.” You felt yourself perk up at the prospect.   
“Don’t call any attention to yourself. Spend time with Asger if you must but lie low Midgardian.” He warned, “Promise me.”   
Apart from the way he said Asger’s name, the seriousness in his voice and the lack of humor in his eyes made you realize that without him here, something could very easily go very wrong. His demand had shut down your flippant dismissal of him leaving and you nodded.   
“I promise.”   
“Good.” He nodded, his shoulders dropping slightly.   
“When are you leaving?” You asked.   
He stood up, taking a long look at you, scanning every inch of what he saw in a way that made you shiver, “Now.”   
You nodded and opened up your book again, but he didn’t leave. You looked up and waited for him to say whatever he seemed to be chewing on.   
“Midgardian?”   
“Yeah?”   
He smirked, “Don’t die.”   
As if saying the words gave him permission to leave, he turned to go but something took over you and you stopped him by blurting, “Wolf?”   
He turned slowly, brow raised, “Yes?”   
You considered telling him that you wouldn’t be sad if he didn’t follow his own advice to you but couldn’t do it.   
“Don’t die.” You echoed, surprised that you meant it.   
Loki let out a little huff you now knew was a laugh and you watched as he wove between the tables until he turned the corner around a massive book shelf. When he was gone, you smiled. You now had three weeks of freedom and you would sure as hell use them to figure out how you were going to escape without his help.


	9. A Tricky Hunt and an Unexpected Find

The last couple weeks had been excruciatingly boring. Did you miss the parties and meetings? Absolutely not. But did you miss having company and someone to talk to? As much as you hated to admit it, yes, yes you did. You had seen Asger a few times and it had been…nice, but it hadn’t been…interesting. When you were with him you caught yourself wondering what the Prince was up to and wishing you could have left the palace with him. Even if the Prince always managed to irritate you more than anyone you had ever met, it seemed your anger had been keeping the sadness and longing for freedom at bay. Left to your own thoughts, it was become harder and harder to keep those negative emotions from seeping in.   
However, at least with the Prince gone, you were free to do and go wherever you wanted, not having to answer to anyone. After the first mind-numbing couple of days, you had decided to try and find the secret path the Prince had used the time he had snuck you back into the palace from the market.   
It was proving to be much harder than you had first anticipated.  
The Prince was due to arrive sometime today, if he hadn’t arrived already, and you were no closer to finding the path than when you had started your search. You wanted to smack your past self upside the head for not having memorized where the door had let out or for not having at least looked back to see what the exit looked like. The few doors you had found looked nothing like the one you had gone through. Not that you knew what it looked like. After all, you had only seen it from the inside of the damp passage and not the other way around. If you had, this hunt of yours wouldn’t have felt so hopeless.   
You had set out early that morning and your now growling stomach let you know that it was way past lunch. As your last day alone, and thus last chance at finding the path, you figure you needed as much time as you could get to find it. You didn’t think he had arrived yet, which meant you still had time.   
For some reason, you were sure the Prince would let you know when he got back. Logically, he had no real reason to, but you hoped he would. If he did, then maybe him having to search for you would give you extra time to find the path, if you hadn’t already found it by the time he got back. And, if you were being honest, you were ready for him to get back, not wanting to have to spend another day wandering the halls by yourself.   
You fiddled with the hem of the Asgardian shirt you were wearing as you walked down the hallways. It was hard to be sure, but the shirts the Prince had left for you were so close to the ones you had seen him wearing that a part of you wondered if he had donated some of his own shirts to your cause for comfortable attire. Maybe it was only your imagination, but when you had first put one of them on, that lingering smell of lemon and pine felt oddly familiar. Strangely enough, you found yourself finding more comfort in the shirts that reminded you of him rather than your own clothes that reminded you of home. Trapped and alone, any reminder of freedom or home was starting to become unbearable.   
At the corner of the hallway, you turned down another long, narrow hallway and made it about halfway down before you realized you had already checked it twice before. With a defeated groan, you picked up the pace, not quite paying attention to your surroundings. You wanted to save your energy, searching a hallway that might actually lead to a secret way out of the palace.   
A few feet further down, a familiar voice rooted you to the spot, the mere sound sending a current of fear through you. Your chest tightened and it was suddenly hard to breath. Just because you hadn’t seen him in over a month, didn’t mean you didn’t know the sound of his voice when you heard it. It wasn’t something you could easily forget. You had only managed to avoid the king because dumb luck had been on your side. Apparently your luck had run out.   
You had to get out. Now.   
As quickly and softly as you could, you backed up the way you came, but it quickly became apparent that he was moving far faster than you could even think to make it round the corner at the other far end. Frantic, your head whirled like it was on a swivel, trying to find another way out. You were about to give up and bolt back the way you came, regardless of consequences, when you noticed the outline of a door out of the corner of your eye.   
A few quick strides took you to the wall where, upon closer inspection you found what looked like the outline of an old broom closet. There was no handle and you wondered for a second if you were crazy, imagining things in your desperation. Frustrated, you pushed inside the outline, and heard a small click. Confused yet hopeful, you backed off, the door releasing about an inch with you. Your pounding heart felt like drumroll, building and rising as you pried open the heavy door, scraping your nails against the wood. When the door opened wide enough for you to see inside, you deflated, the seamless brick wall you were met with shattering your hopes of escape. You almost cried out in frustration but managed to bite it back. What you needed was to breath and to think. Their voices were closer now, but you knew you still had a few more precious seconds. There was a way out, there always was. You needed to find it. But was there a way out for you? If you were the Prince, you could have found a way to cast an illusion over yourself and hide from the king, but you weren’t him.   
You were human and you couldn’t rely on magic and tricks to get out.   
Or could you?   
An idea bloomed in your mind but you couldn’t deny it was probably crazy. But there wasn’t any time left to try anything else. Your pounding heart was an urgent reminder that even if you were grasping at straws, however strange your plan sounded, it could be your only way out. You didn’t know what the king would do if he found you suspiciously wandering the halls but you weren’t about to stay to find out.   
Bracing yourself, you stepped through what should have been a solid wall but what turned out to be an image that shimmered green as you passed through it and into a dimly lit hallway. You managed to pull the door shut as the king rounded the corner and you leaned against he wall, barely breathing as you waited to see if the king had spotted you. Only when you were sure that they were long gone, their echoing voices and footsteps long no longer audible, did you sag against the wall, and something like a giggle crossed with a sigh of relief escaping your lips.   
You did it. You were still alive. And it seemed…  
You looked around. Even in the bare light, you recognized the pathway. Your lips curled into a crazy grin. You had to hand it to the Prince, he was damn good at keeping things a secret and at making your heart race, even miles away.   
With a laugh, you skipped down the hallway, ecstatic despite the moldy smell and damp air. Only when a lamp flickered and extinguished above you, plunging you into darkness for the next few feet, did you remember that you weren’t out yet. The pathway may have felt deserted, but you couldn’t be sure of anything. You slowed, wishing you had your daggers.   
It was hard to tell how far you had made it, but you had gone far enough that you had the impression the path had begun to slope a few minutes back. As you veered right, the scraping of uneven steps echoed down the hall. It was too dark to see more than ten steps ahead so you pressed up against the wall, trying to make yourself invisible to whatever was coming your way. Your shallow breathing was too loud in the emptiness. With every breath, you ran through a different scenario, your fear building with every monstrous possibility.   
Whatever it was, it was moving slowly and you hoped it meant that if it came down to it, you could outrun the thing. You knew you should turn back now and run the other way, but you didn’t want to risk alerting it to your presence. If you were lucky, the darkness would offer enough cover to keep you shielded from view. You didn’t want to think about the possibility that you could be dead if it didn’t.   
When it came into the pale light, now only a few feet away from you, your breath caught in your throat.   
“Wolf?” You whispered, your voice echoing through the darkness.   
He flinched his eyes narrowing in confusion. The look in his eyes felt off and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. Figuring you had to be imagining things, a breath of relief escaped your lips. You hadn’t thought you’d ever be this happy to see him.   
But worry washed away any bit of relief you felt at the sight of him when you took a step forward and got a better look at him. His hair was a soaked, tangled mess falling into his face, covering cuts a bruises along his jaw. He had one hand clutching his side and you noticed the other was pressed against the wall for support. And that was just what you could see from a quick inspection. The sight felt like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks as if your brain couldn’t figure out what it was seeing.   
“Midgardian?” His voice seemed to scrape its way out his throat, only audible because of the silence of the pathway.   
The sound broke you out of your trance and you closed the space between the two of you in rushed steps. “What the hell happened to you?” You demanded.   
“Nothing.” He crossed his arms low over his chest and leaned against the wall like he would any other day, but it was missing his usual insouciant quality.   
He was hiding something, you were sure of it. You pulled his arms away from his body, surprised that he let you without protest, and sucked in a break at the sight of the blood soaked tunic. If the amount of blood was any indication, it was impressive that he was still standing, let alone walking.   
With a deep breath, you tried to tuck all your emotions away, willing your voice to be as curt and unfeeling as you knew it should be.   
“I thought gods weren’t supposed to bleed.” You huffed.   
He shrugged, not quite able to do it without wincing. “It happens.”   
“It doesn’t just happen. Where the hell were you Prince?” You forced your hands to your side so you wouldn’t inspect the bruised face in front of you. “That doesn’t just happen from a walk in the park.”   
He pushed himself from the wall, his breath catching at the movement. He was done with your interrogation. “Nowhere.”   
“Nowhere the planet or nowhere you’re trying to ignore my question?” You stepped in front of him, your hands on his chest, so he wouldn’t step around you. “Want to tell me what you were doing?”   
“It doesn’t matter.” He snapped, trying to push past you.   
You knew you should let him be. Let it go. It should’t matter what he had done or that he was hurt. It didn’t affect you. You weren’t the one who was hurt. But you couldn’t just let it go. You’d figure out why later, when you weren’t terrified by the sight in front of you.   
“Really?” You demanded, angling your head to try and get a better look at the cut on his jaw, “It doesn’t matter?”   
His eyes narrowed, “I didn’t think you’d be this upset Midgardian.”   
Annoyed, you pushed hard on what appeared to be a stab wound on his abdomen, watching as he grit his teeth in an attempt to push past the pain to stay standing.  
“Of course I’m upset.” He grabbed your hand but you kept pushing. “We had a deal Loki. You stay alive so that I can stay alive. I’m not going back into that dungeon because you do stupid shit like this. You stay alive. That’s the deal.” You growled and released the pressure on his wound, hoping the words would convince him as much as you.   
He glowered at you, “And here I thought you’d be curious to know what would happened if I got stabbed.”   
Ending in a coughing fit, he slid down the wall to a clumsy seat on the ground. Half propped up against the dirty wall, you were suddenly hit with how much younger and how much more tired he looked. He didn’t seem to have enough energy left to keep up the cocky god of mischief facade, and you felt yourself soften a little.   
Releasing a sigh, you bent down to a crouch in front of him so that you were at his eye level and tucked a loose, bloody strand of hair behind his ear, only to find another nasty bruise beneath it.   
“What the hell did you do to yourself.” You murmured, your voice little more than a sigh.   
You weren’t going to solve anything by scolding him, you knew that. Whatever he had done, there was nothing you could do about it now other than make sure he stayed alive and unhurt. What you really needed to do was calm down. You tried telling yourself that now that you knew he was safe and alive, you weren’t heading to the dungeon, but the thought wasn’t calming you as much as it should have. It seemed the longer you stared at Loki, the tighter the pressure in your chest seemed to become. You forced in a deep breath, trying to create space your lungs. There was no reason for you to be this scared and upset. These feelings weren’t like you. And it wasn’t like you were actually concerned about Loki’s welfare. Right?   
As if to prove that last thought wrong, you steeled your voice, banishing all emotion, “Use that magic of yours and bring me bandages, antiseptic and something for stitches.”   
You tilted his head side to side with a finger under his chin as you inspected his face as clinically as possible.   
He raised his brows, “You’re going to…” He stopped as if he wasn’t sure what you were going to do.  
“I’m going to patch you up yes.” You rolled yours eyes at his surprise, “Don’t make a deal about it.”   
“I’m fine.”   
“You’re not.”   
“You don’t strike me as the doctorly type.” He protested with a cough. “You used my injury to push me to the ground.”   
You lifted his blood soaked tunic, revealing his bloody stomach, contracted in pain, “I only did that to knock some sense into you. What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?”   
“What were you doing creeping around here anyhow?” He countered.   
“None of your business.” You shut down his question, knowing he probably didn’t need to know the truth, “Now, get me those bandages I asked for.”   
You watched his face contort in pain, his jaw tightening until what you needed was beside you. Too busy marvelling at his ability, you barely looked up in time to see him slump forward, eyes rolling back in his head. You caught him by the shoulders and righted his heavy body.   
Cupping either side of his face, you searched, heart racing, for any sign that he wasn’t doing worse than a few minutes ago, “Hey, we’ve still got things to do. You have to stay awake for me okay? Please Loki.”   
Your breathing picked up and a panicked feeling settled in your gut. For the first time since you met him, you feared he wasn’t as indestructible as he wanted you and everyone else around him to believe. The colour of the wound told you that if someone got creative enough, they could make a god bleed. Doubt pooled in your stomach and you were afraid he might not stay awake long enough to get him to his room. You pushed the thoughts away, willing him to stay awake - to live - as you pushed the hair from his face and threatened to stab him again if he didn’t open his eyes.   
He took in a long, shaky breath, his eyes fluttering open.   
You let out a breath of relief, “You’re lucky I’m here Wolf.”   
The corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly, “I knew you being good at staying alive would rub off on me.”   
“That is why you made a deal with me in the first place.” You mentioned, even if you both knew that wasn’t true.   
Even in his half awake state he knew better then to correct you, and once you realized he wasn’t going to say anything else, you got to work disinfecting the wound. Thankfully, despite the odd colour to the cut, he wasn’t bleeding out anymore. He barely flinched as you poured the alcohol over it, dabbing gently to clean it out. You weren’t much of a medic, but it was the best you could do. His body would heal much faster than yours ever could anyways, which reassured you that the painfully sloppy stitches you were attempting would only have to hold for the night. He was probably in more pain than he was letting on, yet barely flinched every time the needle pierced the skin.   
“That’s not why,” he whispered so softly you weren’t sure you had heard him right.   
Looking up from the final stitch, you found his eyes searching yours. Their intensity might have been dimmed from the pain, but it didn’t take away the part of his gaze that always made you feel like he could see right through you. You shivered, unable to look away.   
It took you a moment to remember what you had been talking about. “Then why did you make the deal?”   
He stayed silent long enough for you to knot the thread, then shrugged, the movement stiff, “I did it to keep me alive.”   
You cocked your head and looked into his eyes, trying to see past his words to what you were missing. “Isn’t that what I said?”   
“Must be the pain talking.” His words came out shallow and you could feel him slipping away again. The only reassuring thought was that if he had enough fight left in him to keep his guard up and not tell you the truth, then he could hold out a little longer.   
“That’s hard to believe,” you looked up from his stomach, realizing that you needed to keep him talking, “I’ve never heard you say anything you didn’t think through first.”   
He caught your stare and you were relieved by the fire you felt in it, “Sometimes it happens.”   
“Does it?”   
“More often then you would know.” He murmured.   
That unnerving stare of his captured all of your attention, and you couldn’t look away. You didn’t want to look away. You wanted to see beneath the surface. You wanted to know what he saw when he looked at you. Was it the same thing you were looking for when you looking into his eyes?   
“And what do you do when that happens?” You asked, lured in by that unguarded, sleepy look on his face.   
“I say something confusing instead.” He let his head thump back against the wall..   
You reached for the bandages. “Must be exhausting.”   
“Well, we can’t all be as brutally honest as you Midgardian,” He opened an eye, looking down at you from his tilted back position. “Some of us needs tricks.”   
“Why not? Maybe my honesty is what’s been keeping me alive all this time. You should try it sometimes.” You tried to smile, hoping an attempt at your normal banter would loosen the knots in your stomach.   
He huffed a breath that turned into a cough, his muscles tensing beneath your hand.   
“I’m almost done.” You reassured.   
He waved away your concern, “I’ll be fine in an hour.”   
“You’re not indestructible you know. Whatever or whoever got you, didn’t miss.” You let out a frustrated sigh, and refrained from taping the bandage to his chest harder than necessary. “Tell me whoever did this has a wound to match yours?”   
“I believe theirs is worse,” You could hear the smile in his voice.   
“Good.”   
“You’re relieved.” The words were a statement but were filled with so much surprise that it sounded like a question.   
“No.” You lied.   
“Pardon me Midgardian, but I don’t seem believe you.”   
You glanced up at him. “Why’s that?”   
“Because you let out a sigh that was clearly one of relief.” He pointed out.   
You levelled his annoyingly smug look with a glare, “I did not.”   
He raised a brow, proving that even while injured and half conscious he could still perfect that deadpanned look of disbelief. You almost smiled at the familiarity of it.   
Instead, you pulled his shirt back down over the bandage and crossed your arms, “If I sounded relieved it’s only because that means that whoever you pissed off is going to have to take a couple of days off before deciding whether or not he wants to come over here and make your life, and thus mine, even more complicated.   
Mulling over your words, he eventually nodded as if accepting your words more than anything he had come up with on his own. You tucked yourself under his arm to help bear his weight and get him up.   
“Come on. Stand up. We need to get to your room.”   
He looked down at you with a raised brow, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.   
“Shut up.”   
“I didn’t say anything.” His smile faltered with each swaying step forward, “I do believe, judging by that look you’re shooting me now, that you wish you were the one to stab me.”   
“You know what?” You paused to readjust his weight, tucking yourself even closer to his side, “I absolutely do wish it was me.”   
He took another uneven step, “I would have been disappointed if you had said any different.”   
“Of course you would have.” You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “Only you would embrace the side of me that wants to stab you.”   
The corners of his mouth lifted a little higher but you could tell he was trying hard not to let you know how forced it was. The further you walked the further he leaned on you, and you had a feeling he wasn’t even aware of it. The struggle to keep moving was draining the life from him. Whatever had happened to him didn’t seem to be killing him but rather seemed to suck all the energy from him until standing became an arduous task. You held him tighter, trying not to feel so worried. You weren’t a worrier. Not when you knew it wouldn’t help you in any way, and especially not for someone who was basically acting as your prison guard. But you couldn’t seem to help it. Even if you were almost completely sure he would be able to walk this off without a problem after a good night’s sleep, that inkling of doubt held fast.   
“That’s what people don’t understand.” His voiced snapped you out of your worry, despite how soft and drowsy it sounded.   
You kept moving forward regardless of how tired you were becoming, his body much heavier than you had anticipated. “What don’t they understand Wolf?”  
You needed to get him to his room and soon. Hopefully, you were almost out of this dank hallway.   
“They don’t understand that pretending their dark side doesn’t exist doesn’t make it any less there. It makes them a coward for not embracing it.”   
Before you could look into his eyes to get a better sense of the very interesting words he just spoke, his head lolled forward, eyes shut.  
”Hey, Loki? Stay with me, okay? Just until we get to your room. I can’t get you there if you don’t help me.” Your voice was soft and gentle, a tone you never thought you’d use with him.   
He sucked in a shallow breath, and without a word, straightened slightly. Neither of you spoke, but as long as he kept moving you were happy. He didn’t need to waste his energy talking with you, no matter how interested you were by this unguarded prince you knew you’d never get the chance to see again. When you nearly ran into the door at the end of the hallway, you let out a sigh of relief. You were almost there. Now you just had to get him down the hall and up two flights to his room.


	10. A Murderous Thought and a Partner in Crime

You didn’t know how the two of you had managed it, but somehow, you had succeeded in getting Loki up to your floor without crossing another soul. A small part of you had wondered if it had been his doing, but he had barely stayed conscious the whole way. Your heart was trying to pound its way out of your chest - either from fear or sheer exhaustion from practically hoisting his heavy body up the three flights of stairs - when he asked you to stop for a moment.   
Using his request as an opportunity to catch your breath and gather your strength, you complied, easing out from under his shoulder, and leaving him against the wall for support. For the first time in the bright palace lights, you got a good look at the prince and a sense of dread pooled in your stomach that you knew wouldn’t go away until he was feeling better.   
His face was drained of colour, which seemed to make the already purpling bruises and angry red cuts stand out even more and his hair was drenched in blood and sweat, clinging to his face. His tunic hadn’t faired much better than the rest of him, decorated in thin slices along his arms, with tears along his collar. He had told you that whoever had done this looked worse than he did. It was hard for you to image what the other guy looked like.   
Suddenly, he pitched forward and you stumbled under the weight of catching him. Every muscle in your lower back and legs screamed for you to drop him, but you grit your teeth and pushed against the pain.   
“Loki,” you grunted, trying to maneuver into a position that would better distribute his weight while keeping him steady, “If you pass out now, I’m going to leave you on the ground. You’re too heavy.”   
He puffed out the words, “your room.”   
You stared down the long hallway, knowing exactly what he meant. Even if your two bedrooms were only three doors apart, there were still about a hundred yards between your door and his. And you knew that if the man who had repeatedly told you that he would be fine in hour realized he couldn’t make it that far without passing out, then you weren’t about to argue with him.   
But even the twenty foot walk to your bedroom was a series of stumbling steps, clenched teeth and howling muscles. His strength was fading faster than you dared admit to yourself, and his increasing reliance on you only meant that your strength was fading almost as quickly as his.   
By the time you had opened the door, crossed the room and sat him on the your bed, both of you were gasping for breath. Dumping your hands on your shaking knees, you bent over and tried to catch your breath, sweat dripping from your forehead to the ground. You had heard somewhere that it was best to keep moving, to slowly walk it out, but you couldn’t find it in you to take another step. Only when your breathing had somewhat returned to normal did you looked up at the prince.   
Sitting had seemed to revive him a little, and he managed to hold your gaze, his eyes no longer quite as droopy.   
“When you look at me like that Midgardian, it makes me think you’re mad at me.”   
“I am,” you straightened, your hands on your hips, “that was a lot more exercise I was planning on doing today. Or all week for that matter.”   
The lighthearted lie rolled easily off your tongue. What you were actually mad at him about was the fact that he had done something so stupid as to get himself hurt. But you were even madder at yourself and the fact that you seemed to care so much about it…and him. As much as you hated to admit it, you had started to see him as a friend, no matter how stupid that made you or how dangerous it was. And the worst part, was that you couldn’t find it in you to be coldhearted enough to shut away all your emotions and walk away for the night - and for your own good.   
As if reading your mind he said, “You may use my room for the night. I don’t expect you to stay.”   
Right there. That was your way out. That was your cue to walk away and to leave him to sort out his mess on his own. He held your gaze, not in the defiant, challenging way you were used to, but serious and resigned. Loki chose his words more carefully that anyone else you had ever met, and he hadn’t said that he wanted to be alone. He was hurting and he expected to be alone. He had already accepted it.   
You hated the look on his face; so much more than you thought was good for you. Shaking your head, either at him or at what you were about to do, you turned to go to the bathroom.   
“Don’t fall asleep on me.” You called over your shoulder, “We need to wash the dirt out of the cuts on your face first.”   
When you returned from the bathroom with supplies to clean the cuts, he was looking at you almost warily, as if you were a creature he didn’t quite understand or trust. Despite the strange look he was shooting you, he didn’t seem to look any worse than when you had left him. Maybe, you hoped, he had already gone through the worst of it.   
“What now wolf? What’s with the weird looks?” You asked, sitting on the bed beside him.   
Instead of answering, he followed your motion through narrowed eyes.   
You shook your head at his strange behaviour and gently dabbed the damp facecloth over his cuts, cleaning out the grime and dried blood. The queasy feeling in your stomach eased slightly when you realized that most of the smaller cuts had already healed, leaving only the dried blood on his face.   
“Why are you still here?” He whispered when you were almost done.   
Finishing off the last deep cut, you took in a deep breath and stood so that your faces were no longer so close. You were tempted to brush off the truth by saying “because of the deal we made” but you couldn’t find it in you to lie. Not when he was staring at you so intently you were sure he’d know it if you did. He was looking at you like a safe he couldn’t crack, and you knew him well enough to know that his confusion would only make him want to dissect your words even more closely.   
But because you didn’t have it in you to figure out what the truth actually was, you settled for, “I don’t know.”   
“I don’t need your pity.” His voice had a hard edge to it, more venomous than you had ever heard it directed towards you, “You don’t need to stay because of it. Like I said, you can leave.”   
Your worry morphed into the kind of anger that bubbled up inside you and made you say things before thinking them through “It’s not pity you idiot. It’s concern. And I know that’s probably surprising, because it is to me too, but you’re just going to have to get over it and move on because I’m here, I’m not going anywhere and I’m spending the night in my own bed, whether you like it or not.”   
Your words seemed to stun him into silence, the harsh look fading as he nodded. It was hard to believe that he was at a loss for words, but he only nodded once again and painstakingly pushed himself off the bed to give you enough room to tuck yourself in. He switched off the lamp, and with a small groan, eased himself on top of the sheets beside you.   
Now that the lights were closed, you were struck by the fact that you were sharing a bed with the God of Mischief. A few months ago, you would have laughed in the face of anyone who would have predicted it.  
You were glad that the sheets created a sort of barrier between the two of you, yours bodies were so close. You could barely feel the warmth coming off his body and worried that something might be wrong with him, but pushed the thought aside as quickly as it had appeared. He ran colder than Asgardians and you knew that. You needed to stop worrying and to calm down. He would be fine. He had to be.   
The sound of his breathing slowly became less laboured and the more even it became, the more you felt yourself melt into the plush mattress, the stress deflating from your body. You could still feel that dread in the pit of your stomach, but it wasn’t quite as noticeable anymore.   
“You know, if I wake up in an hour and you’re not better, that officially makes you a liar.” You whispered, staring at the ceiling as you attempted to return things to normal.   
“After the help of such a dedicated and supportive doctor, I’m sure it won’t take longer than a half hour.” He chuckled, the playful smirk on his face obvious, even in the dark.   
With a small smile on your lips, you let out a long, highly needed sigh, closed your eyes and listened to his breathing.   
“(y/n)?” His voice grabbed you from the verge of sleep.  
You tried to blink back the surprise from having falling asleep, “Yeah?”   
“Thank you.”   
“For what?”   
He didn’t say anything and only when you were drifting off again, almost completely asleep, did you think that maybe, you heard, “For staying.” 

The next morning you awoke and he was gone. You weren’t surprised. Rather you were relieved. Him being gone made everything simpler. It meant that you could pretend that whatever had happened between the two of you last night - whatever feelings you may have thought you felt in your panic - hadn’t happened at all. The prince being gone also meant that he was feeling well enough to make it to his room. Or at least you hoped that’s what it meant. For all you knew he could have passed out in the hallway between your two rooms.   
Despite that possibility, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed and check. The bright morning light seemed to cast a new look on the day, and the side of you that knew you shouldn’t care about the prince and his wellbeing actually won out this time. However, your newfound self restraint couldn’t seem to get rid of that dreadful feeling in the pit of your stomach and you got out bed to showered, hoping wash the feeling away.   
You were slipping into your shirt when you heard a knock on the door that made your heart leap into your throat and your hands tremble. Instinctively, you assumed it was the prince on the other side - your hammering heart simultaneously dreading and hoping it would be - but you tossed the thought aside. There was no way he would be knocking at your door to bring you to an event when he looked like he had last night. It couldn’t be him.   
But if it wasn’t him then…You began to imagine worse scenarios that all seemed to end with you being taken away in handcuffs. Scenarios that finished with you dead. Maybe the king had seen you last night. Maybe someone had seen the prince.   
You cursed yourself for letting your emotions run away with you and forced yourself to take the few steps to the door. With a long deep breath, you swung it open and couldn’t believe what you were looking at.   
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost Midgardian.” The prince drawled, taking in your stunned silence. “What seems to be the matter?”   
You poked him, sure an illusion stood before you. When your finger came into contact with the firm, cool material covering his abdomen, you knew you weren’t standing before an illusion. But despite your evidence, you couldn’t believe he was physically here. His skin was flawless, eyes bright, and the corner of his lips hinting at a smile as he stood straighter then he could possibly manage with a stab wound as deep as the one you had patched up the night before.   
“You’re really here…” you murmured, confused, annoyed and maybe a little relived. Lifting his shirt, you inspected the smooth, muscular stomach that showed no signs of your talentless stitches.   
“In the flesh.” He grinned, with a small mocking bow. “And I don’t mean to impose, Midgardian, but I would appreciate it if you kept your hands to yourself. I know it must be difficult, but please, do try.”   
Now that you knew he was okay - not that you were one hundred percent convinced that he actually was - your concern made away for anger. Especially after that comment.   
“What the hell happened to you yesterday? What the hell did you think you were doing? What were you thinking? Or what were you even planning for that matter?” The questions tumbled out one after the other as you stepped further out into the hallway with every one.   
“So many questions.” he tutted, “what makes you think I’m here to give you any answers?”   
You were tempted to say so many different things and yet nothing seemed like it would come out right.  
He watched you fester in your anger until finally you said, “You have to give me something Wolf. Because whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself into, it will affect me eventually.”   
“I don’t have to do anything.” He warned, stepping forward to meet you.   
You jutted your chin up, your faces now mere inches apart.  
“Just so you know,” you whispered, “When you get yourself killed, the only person you’ll have to blame is yourself, because I won’t have had enough information to have kept up my end of the deal. I hope you realize this before it’s too late.”   
Something flashed in his eyes but you didn’t give yourself time to figure it out. You marched off in the general direction of the library even if you knew you were too irritated to even think about sitting still in front of a dull book.   
“Midgardian?” he crooned, “Pardon my interruption of your hulk-like stomping, but we’re not going that way.”   
You clenched your fists and turned, despite everything screaming at you to ignore him and keep walking. “Then where are we going?”   
“Not anywhere you can remain dressed like that.”   
The way his grin widened let you know that he was fully aware of the fact that you wanted to punch that smirk off his face. Instead, you marched back to your room and growled, “I should have killed you last night when I had the chance.”   
The sound of his chuckling was the last thing you heard before closing the door to get changed. 

 

“You forgot to mention that everyone here would be past the age of a thousand” You muttered, weaving through the conference room after an excruciatingly boring lecture on the Asgardian sewage system and its necessary repairs.   
“Do I need to inform you that I am also past the age of one thousand, in Midgardian terms of course?” He asked, steering you to the far end of the room with your arm linked with his.   
You rolled your eyes, “You know what I mean.”   
“Fortunately for you, I am fluent in Midgardian hyperboles.” He whispered as you passed a particularly grumpy looking, white-haired man. “But more accurately, that man was almost five thousand years old.”   
You glanced back at the man in surprise before getting back to the real question you wanted to ask. “So what exactly are we going here?”   
“This is a meeting for The Council of Public Matters and General Health.” he explained, “Our presence is simply required to understand the direction in which our planet wishes to proceed.”   
“Seems like something only you need to attend. I seriously doubt I was needed here.” You complained.   
The corner of his mouth lifted, “I’ll go find something for you to drink that will make this more entertaining. But not something that will kill that breakable mortal body you walk so carelessly around in.”   
You decided to ignore that last comment. “You know it’s only ten in the morning right? I don’t think it’s appropriate for the Prince to be seen drinking at this hour.”   
“Is that your way of saying you don’t want any?” He took a step back, still facing you, his hands in his pockets, “Because the next council member to speak will make the last one seem like the realm’s most exciting entertainer.”   
Shaking your head in exasperation, you wanted to say no but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine, just one. And only because I was almost bored to death.”   
A victorious grin lit up his face and he left you by the empty table in the back of the room. You looked around for a familiar face, but only found a few people appearing close to your age. None of them were Asger., but surprisingly, you didn’t find yourself being too sad about the fact that he hadn’t been invited.   
Throughout the first half of the meeting, you hadn’t spoken much to the prince, claiming it would be rude to whisper and distract the fellow council members. But the real reason you hadn’t been willing to speak was because you were still pissed the he hadn’t told you what he was up to. Obviously, he had no reason to tell you of all people, but for some strange reason you couldn’t name, you thought that now, he might have. Whatever he had done the day before had to do with whatever he was planning that made him strike a deal with you, but that was your problem. You filled in every important detail with the word ‘whatever’. It didn’t matter than you had gotten him home safe and sound, you were no closer to figuring out his schemes than before.   
But the longer you had stood beside him, watching him shift his weight from side to side more often than usual, the more you had realized you weren’t ever going to get an answer from him. He wouldn’t trust anyone with his plans, so why would he trust you? Staying mad and refusing to talk to him would only make your life more miserable. Still, you weren’t planning on letting it go - hoping in vain that if you annoyed him enough he would give in and tell you - but for now you figure that having him as an ally was worth more.   
You were still scanning the room when you made eye contact with a man you had only ever seen once, but had been praying never to see again. Your chest tightened in response. The only thought that calmed you a little was how annoyed you were at constantly fearing for your life. However, it didn’t do much to slow your heart rate when you noticed him begin to weave through the crowd and make his way towards you. You tried to tell yourself that he couldn’t really be much of a danger with so many people around, but the thought barely comforted you at all. You didn’t have your daggers on you this time. Even if it would definitely be considered unseemly to ram a dagger to an Asgardian’s throat, you would have appreciated the option to do so again.   
“Well, well, well, what are you doing here mortal?” The man sneered, no doubt in your mind that he hadn’t forgotten what had happened in the alley months ago.   
The look in his eyes when Loki had sent him off had demanded revenge, but now, they promised it. You itched for you daggers, but you had to remind yourself that wishing for something that would never happen would only get yourself killed. You needed to be smart about what you did next.   
“I’m attending this meeting, same as you.” You pushed off the wall, already feeling cornered.   
There were too few people at the back of the room and it seemed he had managed to pick the one party where its attendees were so jaded, the presence of an earthling wasn’t worth a second glance in your direction. For the first time since you got here, you were desperately wishing you were the meeting’s centre of attention.   
You were almost past him when he grabbed your wrist so hard you couldn’t help but flinch. The bones beneath his vicelike grip felt like they were about to snap as he pulled you back, moving so close to him you could smell his putrid breath on the back of your neck, “What do you say, same as me, we go somewhere else.”   
“I’d say it’s rude to leave a meeting halfway through and it’s definitely not very ambassadorial.” Despite the fact that your tongue felt thick with fear, your voice didn’t waver, “And I told the Prince I’d be right here when he comes back any second from now.”   
You tried to pull away, but couldn’t break his grip. It seemed that mentioning the prince did nothing to deter him from his goal. He had to know that there was safety in the council room and you didn’t put it past him to drag you elsewhere. Not when a chef had just brought out more pastries and most of the guests were now milling around the table at the other far end of the room. You were become more isolated by the second.   
“The prince isn’t here now.” He leered, pulling your toward the back door the prince had taken. “You owe me this one.”   
Although there was a chance you could bump into the prince in the hallway, you weren’t about to bet on it. Your chances were still better where there were witnesses. You knew better than to let yourself be taken elsewhere without a fight.   
Pulling back even harder, you forced him to begin to have to use some of his strength to keep you moving. When the soles of your Asgardian slippers began to lose traction, you let go of all resistance and he stumbled back towards you at the same time as you whirled to face him, taking him by surprise with a knee to the groin.   
He let out a howl, releasing the grip on your wrist. You were tempted to smash his face onto your knee to break his nose, but you knew the sound had attracted enough attention for you to get away safely. As horrible as it was, you knew you could probably get away with a knee to the groin as self defence but anything other than that would probably have been considered excess and sent your status from glorified prisoner to a prisoner in the dungeon.  
Every set of eyes were on you as you strode across the room, but no one dared meet your stare. You were panting, and everything inside you was shaking - from fear and anger - but you schooled your face into the most neutral mask you could manage. Heading toward the populated buffet table, most people parted to let you through, but mercifully, most of them remained glued to the hors d’oeuvres. Whatever the reason, as long as they stayed close, you would take their company.   
You had forced yourself to pick up a carrot to at least appear like everything was normal when you saw the prince weave through the crowd, two drinks in his hand. A small sigh of relief escaped your lips when you noticed his eyes scanning the crowd for you, most of your fear ebbing away.   
When he squeezed through the last bit of the crowd with a fake smile and an “excuse me”, his eyes met yours and his brows immediately furrowed.   
“Don’t you look like you’re about to murder someone.” His voice was slightly amused, though his head was cocked to the head in inspection.   
“Don’t worry about it.” You snarled, “I’ve got an alibi.”   
He blinked a few times but that half smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. The look softened you a little. He didn’t give that smile to just anyone, and it was so disarmingly genuine that it almost made you forget why you were so furious for a moment. Almost. One little smile form the prince, no matter how safe or comforted it made you feel, couldn’t make you forget everything that had just happened. That kind of anger refused to let go that quickly.   
“I certainly hope that alibi isn’t me because no one will believe that I had nothing to do with it.”   
His answer took you by surprise, “I just tell you I have an alibi ready for a murder and this is how you answer?”   
You knew for a fact that if you had answered Asger the same way, he probably would have panicked and looked at you as if you were crazy.   
“Well,” his smirk turned into a full on grin, “A little chaos and madness can only make life a little more interesting.”   
You scanned the room for the asshole, hoping he had decided to leave, especially now that Loki had returned. “Any recommendations on how to do it?”   
“The murder?”   
You nodded.   
He thought about it for a moment, his head tilted in thought, “You wouldn’t happen to be able to transform into a snake would you?”   
You rolled your eyes.   
“I seem to have done something wrong.” He mentioned, gazing at you intently.   
You looked around, confused. “Why do you say that?”   
“Because now you only look angry and not like you’re about to kill someone. I feel like I may have lost all entertainment at the prospect of a grisly murder.”   
His words made you realize that you were no longer breathing heavily and you had calmed down to the point that you no longer saw red. Sure, you were still pissed, but it felt less all consuming and more like a background buzzing - fully aware it was there, just not the only thing you aware of. To your surprise, it seemed like the one person who could rile you up like no other, could just as easily calm you down. Not that you were ever about to tell him, but you were grateful he was here.   
“I’m sorry to disappoint Wolf. But you could always offer to be the victim, that way there could still be a grisly murder.”   
He shot you that cunning grin, “I’m sure I could find another way for you to get rid of all that pent of energy that would be much more fun for the both of us.”   
You glared at him, irritation rushing back up to the surface.   
“There’s that look again.” His lips spread even further, vanishing the two glasses in his hands as he stepped closer to you and whispered, “Maybe I’ll witness a murder after all.”   
“Maybe you’ll be the victim.” You snapped, your hands lifting to his chest to push him back.   
His hands stopped you immediately, holding your own against his chest with his long fingers wrapped around your wrists like cuffs. You flinched, your wrist still tender.   
He immediately let go, brows furrowed in confusion, and almost backed away before noticing the angry grip mark on your wrist. Gently lifting it, he examined your wrist so delicately it was almost as if he was afraid he’d break it.  
“Who exactly did you intend to murder?” His voice was a low growl, a slow question that was far more threatening than if he had shouted it.   
“The same jackass from the alley.” You muttered.  
As soon as the words left your mouth and dark look clouded his eyes. The mischievous smirk vanished, replaced by something much, much more dangerous. You had never seen it before but you knew all to well that it was part of the reason for his reputation. He let go of your wrist and you almost grabbed his hands back, knowing that if you held them, he couldn’t do anything stupid.   
“What did he do?” Loki demanded, his voice no louder than a whisper.   
“Nothing I couldn’t take care of myself.” It wasn’t that you wanted to brush off what had happened, but you also knew that you couldn’t let Loki get away with whatever he was planning behind that murderous look.   
He turned, stalking off but you quickly caught up and grabbed his arm. He tried to shake you off but you held on.   
“Loki. Do you trust me?”   
The question caught him off guard, and he turned, his brows furrowed as if trying to find the trick in your question. His gaze bore into you for what felt like an eternity until finally his head dipped in a slight nod.  
“Yes.”   
“Then trust me when I say that I can take care of myself when I need to.” You affirmed. “There’s a solution to this that doesn’t involve you doing anything rash and getting into any more trouble than I know you’re already getting yourself into. Trust me.”   
He stared as if he was searching for the truth - or a reason to trust you - all the way down to your soul, and you knew that if you fidgeted or looked away from those intense green eyes he wouldn’t find whatever it was he was looking for.   
After what felt like an eternity, he let out a sigh, his entire posture loosening. You felt yourself do the same, relieved that he trusted and respected you enough to stay put.   
“Midgardian, There’s no doubt in my mind that you can take care of yourself.” There was no hint of his usual sarcasm or humour, “I think you may just be the most terrifying thing on this planet.”   
“Damn right I am,” You pasted on a smile to move past the explosive tension, though it didn’t feel as forced as you thought it would, “Is that why you took away my daggers?”   
He let out a little chuckle and shook his head incredulously, “That’s exactly why Midgardian. It’s also why I wanted to have you on my side.”   
“You know, I never thought you’d say anything so kind. This isn’t your version of coddling, is it?” You teased, looking up at him with a horrified expression.   
“Don’t get used to it,” he kept his hands in his pockets but took a slight step closer to you, “I won’t make a habit of it.”   
“Good. I’d be weirded out if you did.” You murmured.   
You both stood there, half grinning at each other as if you were sharing a secret the rest of the world wasn’t in on. And honestly, after everything that had happened, and even with anger still thrumming through you although now more subdued, you weren’t sure why you were smiling either. But it seemed, you couldn’t help it.   
He took a step closer, and you felt yourself do the same as if magnetically drawn to him so that there was barely a foot between the two of you. Dropping his gaze, he took in your dress and then found your eyes with a fire in his.   
“It seems that months later, I’m still…” he paused, tentatively echoing your words, “weirded out… by your lack of Midgardian clothing.”   
“Well,” you said breathlessly, “that makes two of us. Every time I put it on I want to get out of it.”   
The way his lips spread into a roguish grin you knew exactly what he was about to say next but before he could, a loud voice announcing the next speech burst through your private little bubble. You stepped back, returning to reality from your momentary haze.   
He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair, “Let’s go sit down.”   
You nodded and began to walk towards the seating area but he didn’t follow. “Aren’t you coming?”   
“You go on, I’ll be right there.” He waved you off with a strange look on his face.   
An old man pushed past you, sending you stumbling forward and you grabbed onto Loki’s arm for support but he stumbled a little as well. Even though it was only for a flash, you saw the bruises and cuts on his face that you had been expecting to see this morning.   
Your eyes widened.   
The man didn’t seem to notice the change in the prince’s appearance, or that he had jostled you out of the way for a good seat at the most excruciating lecture, but you knew you hadn’t imagined any of it. You had finally learned that appearance wasn’t everything where the prince was concerned; more often than not there was a little mischief involved.   
“Feeling a little confused Midgardian? I did say I would follow, there’s no need to come get me.” His voice was relaxed but you had a feeling he knew exactly what you had seen and it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss.   
Too bad.   
“You’ve had an illusion over you this whole time!” You whisper yelled, “I can’t believe you. How are you still standing? You should be in bed!”   
“I see you’ve failed another test Midgardian.” He replied, not recovering with a lie as well as he normally would. The fact only let you know how poorly he had to be feeling. “It took you much longer than thirty seconds to figure it out.”   
“No it didn’t. Because this wasn’t a test. You just didn’t want to let anyone know what you had been up too” The words had started off uncertain but the more you thought about your theory the more certain you became, “And the only reason that I’m here is because this is the most boring event on earth - Asgard - and you didn’t want to come here alone!”   
He crossed his arms, “And what if it was?”   
“Then you can’t just go around pretending it was!” You poked him again where you knew would hurt, trying to get through his thick skull.   
“And what are you going to do about it?” He dared, the illusion flickering with the pain.   
You seized him up, “Give me a dagger, just one dagger, back and I won’t have to do a thing.”  
“And why would I do that?”   
“Because it’s only fair.”   
“Life’s not fair.” He pointed out.   
You clenched your fists. “I swear to god Loki I will push you right here right now.”   
“Other than attracting unwanted attention I don’t see what that will change.”   
You shot him your sweetest smile, “Well, somehow I doubt if I chose where to hit you properly, you won’t be able to hold onto that illusion…and I believe not wanting people to know where you’ve been is the whole point of this particular illusion.”   
“Are you blackmailing me?” He demanded incredulously.   
You shrugged, “I guess I am.”   
“Fine.” He said, a cunning grin spreading across his lips, “You can have your dagger back once we get out of this meeting, but not because you have the ability to foil my so called plans.”   
Everything in you lifted with joy, almost making you jump up and down. Instead, you asked, “If not that, then why?”   
“Because you had the audacity to blackmail me for it.” He stuffed his hands back into his pockets, the very image of insouciant rather than recovering patient.   
You shook your head, confused. “And that’s a good thing?”   
His lips spread wide, canines flashing in that wolfish grin of his. “It is to me.”   
“So you’ll take me to my dagger then?” There was no disguising the hope in your voice.   
After what had happened today, you were craving the comfort of your daggers more than anything. Or, you thought as he stepped a little closer once more, almost anything.   
“As long as you promise not to stab me with it.”   
Your hand immediately fluttered to his own wound, and although you’d make sure he gave you your dagger first, the next thing you would do was make sure he got plenty of rest, “Don’t piss me off Wolf, and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”   
He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest that put a smile on your face even as you turned and walked away. “Then you and I both know I should be terrified.”   
“That you should be,” you called over your shoulder, “Now come on, if we stay at this meeting any longer it’ll kill me. I can’t die now, knowing my dagger is so close.”   
You worried for a moment that he might tell you to stay but a few steps later he matched your stride, leaving the meeting without so much as a second glance behind.


	11. A Windowless Hall and a Starry Night

It may not have taken the hour he had promised, but Loki had recovered incredibly well considering his injury. It had taken three days of you poking him every time he knocked on your door for him to have recovered enough that he no longer needed to show up coated in an illusion. On the fourth day, the faded colour under his left eye had been enough to let you know that the prince, the real prince without any sort of embellishment, stood before you. You doubted anyone else would have noticed the yellowish colouring, but you had been starting at him so intently - for reasons that only had to do with learning how to decipher the real from the fake - that you had noticed immediately. He had seemed momentarily shocked by your observation, but had quickly recovered, taking you to the day’s boring meetings without another word regarding his health.   
That had been three weeks ago.   
Although you hadn’t forgotten the real reason you were on Asgard, more often that you wanted to, you caught yourself almost…having a good time. If not that, then at least you were no longer consistently terrified or bored. The meetings with the Prince had become more bearable knowing that after hearing a particularly stupid Asgardian comment about Midgardians, you’d find a knowing smirk across the room. The meetings had become even more amusing when the two of you had started competing to see just how extravagant your lies about life on Earth could become before someone called you out on it. So far, Loki was losing 6-7, and there was nothing you enjoyed more than shooting him the kind of victorious grin that always managed to infuriate him so easily.   
When you weren’t keeping each other entertained in meetings, you were trying to get your second dagger back. He had given you multiple opportunities, showing up as illusions, but each one seemed to be better than the last. It didn’t matter that you were starting to be able to figure out an illusion from the real in under three minutes, it was still taking you two minutes and thirty seconds too long. Mercifully, he had begun waiting to see how long it would take you to figure it out, which gave you enough time to begin to pick up on slight differences. Sometimes it was only a feeling that give him away and other times it was a slight difference in physical appearance you wouldn’t have picked up on if you hadn’t been spending so much time with him. Either way, you were pretty confident you’d get both your daggers back before the end of the year. You had to. At this point, you were adamant about getting your daggers back, not only to for their comforting presence but to win your little game with the Prince as well.   
You wanted to say that getting your dagger back was the reason you had begun spending most of your free days with the Prince, but if you were being completely honest, you were pretty sure that was only part of the reason. Whatever the other half of that reason was, you weren’t willing to try and figure it out. What you did know was that the first day he had taken you to a training room instead of a meeting - telling you that you could definitely use the practice and the exercise - you had been more than willing to stay, even if it was your day off.   
After an hour you had been out of breath and rustier than you thought possible, but you had found yourself knocking on his door early the next morning you had free, waking him up instead of the other way around.   
The few days he did leave the palace, and you without supervision, you planned out your escape route. Even if you found yourself thinking less and less of him as your prison guard, every time he refused to let you know where he was going you were reminded that each of you had your own agendas. His shady disappearances were stark reminders that you weren’t going to be let off the hook when whatever he was plotting was set into motion, and it only made you search harder for a way out. If you could get out before you got trapped in a worse situation, even if it meant breaking your deal with the Prince, you’d take it. The problem was that when you were with him, it was getting harder and harder to think of betraying him - and so much easier to easy to forget who he was. The God of Mischief you had met that day in the market wasn’t exactly the one you knew now.   
You had successfully mapped out a route to the forest that would hopefully lead you to your ship, but you needed more time to find a spare part. And that was based on the assumption that your ship was still there. If you had been the king, you would have smashed it to pieces, leaving you to rot on this miserable planet. On your worst days, you found yourself considering the idea that there might not be a way off this planet. Even if you did find someone willing to give you a new part and your ship was still there, you couldn’t forget about Hiemdall. Finding a way past him felt impossible.   
Pushing the troubling thoughts from your mind, you closed the book you weren’t actually reading and went to get changed. Today was one of your days off, and after yesterday’s long meetings and spending the day reading, you were ready for your late evening practice.  
You were dressed in your own clothes when you heard a knock at your door and felt yourself smiling unwittingly.   
“Change of plans” he said before you could open the door completely.   
He was dressed in his more formal clothing; his posture was rigid. You could tell by the slight clench in his jaw that although his voice sounded casual, he was anything but.   
It was hard to know when exactly you had started to read him better, but it was the reason you asked, point blank, “What’s the matter?”   
He gestured to your clothes, ignoring the question like you were sure he would do, “You need to get changed.”   
“Tell me why.” Even if you had a feeling he was dead serious about whatever was happening, you pushed him anyways.   
“Get changed.” He ordered. You were about to poke him, but he held onto your finger before you could reach him. “This is not an illusion.”   
It wasn’t often that something stressed him out, but when it did, it immediately made you feel the same way. Normally when he was like this, his hair was disheveled from running his hands through it so often, but today it was neatly combed back and his clothes were pristine and wrinkle free. You looked him over. This wasn’t about something that had happened.   
“Who are we meeting today Wolf?” You tried not to notice the way your voice was slightly higher pitched.   
He shook his head with an tired sigh, “Get changed Midgardian. We don’t have time to waste.”   
You didn’t argue any further. If you needed to know, you had to trust that he would tell you. Something about the look in his eyes let you know that he needed you to work with him on this. You weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t, but you weren’t willing to find out.   
Before you could turn back into your room, a thought occurred to you, “Anything in particular you want me to wear?”   
There was no sarcasm in your voice, you were all business. If you were going to properly chose your armour then you were sure as hell going to ask the one person who knew what kind of battle you were about to walk into.   
His face softened slightly, “Whatever makes you look the least threatening.”   
You shot him a small smile, hoping to ease his worry and yours, “Well that’s going to be hard considering I’m the most terrifying thing on this planet.”   
Although you didn’t get that familiar little huff you were hoping for, the barest crook of his lips was enough ease some of the tension in the air. 

“Is there anything I should know before we go in there?” You asked when he paused about a hundred feet from the wide, double doors taking up most of the back wall at the end of the hallway.   
He looked down at you, a brow raised, annoyance clear on his face, “Are you asking if I’ve done any…treasonous plotting that will implicate you?”   
“That’s exactly what I’m asking.” The words were harsh and maybe a little unfair, but you needed to know what you were walking into. You had been the one to find him when he had come back bleeding out. There was no way he could convince you he wasn’t up to something. He had all but admitted it the day the two of you had struck a deal.   
His eyes flashed with fury, “No.”   
“Are you sure?” You stopped him before he could stalk off, “I’ve never seen you this nervous, and honestly Loki, I don’t like it.”   
“I’m not-” He didn’t bother protesting when he saw your look of disbelief, “The answer to your question is still no.”   
“Then at least tell me who we’re meeting.” You said, exasperated and nervous.   
“Only Odin and a few other council members.”   
Your heart picked up its pace, “Only them. Sure. That shouldn’t be a problem.”   
A small smile softened the cold mask, “The less you say, the better. It shouldn’t take longer than a half hour.”   
He started walking again, but you felt rooted to the spot.   
“Loki?” Your throat was tight and your mouth so dry that his name barely came out as a whisper.   
He turned, eyes inspecting you from head to toe as if he expected to find an injury, only speaking when he didn’t find one. “Yes Midgardian?”   
“Why am I even going?”   
A sour look crossed his face. Something told you he had already asked himself the question and hadn’t liked the answer he had come up with.   
His relaxed shrug did nothing to ease your nerves when he said, “To keep up appearances I imagine. The ambassador is welcome at council meetings after all.”   
His answer was too easy, and you hated it. You didn’t believe for a second that he’d be this jittery if that was the real reason. Instinct told you that whatever was happening had to do with you, but you tried to tell yourself that your fear was making you imagine things. Maybe he had been telling the truth, and a small part of you hoped that maybe he was nervous about something else. You held onto the lie, knowing it was the only way to get you through the meeting. You could try and figure out what was going to happen to you after you got more information. For now, you needed to take in a deep breath, square your shoulders and follow him into the room.   
The doors opened at your approached and you walked in with your head held high, side by side with the Prince, so close that your arm brushed against his. Most of the other events you attended together you walked in with your arm looped through his as if he was escorting you, but this time there was no use for pretence or mocking playfulness. You were soldiers, side by side. Whatever was coming, he was expecting a fight and you weren’t about to cower and hide behind him.   
The room was bare, void of any windows with only an oval table surrounded by a dozen seats at its centre. The king sat at the head with two other older men on his right. Having no idea where to sit, you waited for the Prince to move.   
“Loki. You’re late.” Odin stated dryly.   
The Loki who had been on the other side of that door with you had vanished. Here was the Prince of Asgard; the God of Mischief. He was bored, unimpressed and looked around the room with the disdain of someone who had a million other better things to do. Any hint of emotion had been locked up tight, invisible as if it hadn’t existed in the first place.   
“Late is better than never.” He drawled, “Unlike Thor, I actually bothered to be present.”   
Odin’s face was as impassive as his son’s, “Thor is out keeping peace in other realms. You are only here to replace him.”   
“Father, I’m touched.” He sneered.   
Instead of taking the two closest seats on the king’s left, the Prince took the other head of the table and motioned for you to sit on his right. He leaned back, lounging in the chair with his feet up on the table as if he was in his living room. Odin’s eyes darted to his son’s feet but didn’t say anything.   
You looked around the room and felt yourself relax a little. It didn’t seem like the place where your execution would be discussed, especially with the two old men you had never seen before. You weren’t even sure they knew why you really here. Also, the fact that Loki shouldn’t have been at this meeting in the first place reassured you that it had nothing to do with his scheming, but the way the king completely ignored you, worried you. Normally you would have been met with at least one hateful glare, but either he figured you’d be dead shortly and you were no longer worth it or he truly had other, more important matters to take care of. Even if your gut feeling told you it was the former, you couldn’t help but hope it was neither of those option and that the king had simply come to accept that you were here for another three months.   
“Loki, as you know, we’re here to discuss the annual Peace Gala. However, it’s now going to be held on Asgard due to the tense political tensions in Vanahiem.”   
“The Gala is only a week away.” The Prince pointed out.   
“Which is why it’s important that everyone be aware and ready to get everything in order.” Odin stated as if it was painfully obvious before turning that hard stare towards you, “And you Midgardian, are to remain in Asgardian clothing, keeping yourself as disguised as long as possible.”   
“Father I-” Loki cut in, only to be interrupted by his father.   
“We want you to remain a secret to those of the other realms in order to demonstrate how easily you blend in with the crowd.”   
As strange as his request sounded, you only nodded, remembering the Prince’s advice not to speak.   
“Sound like assimilation rather than integration,” The Prince muttered, though it was clearly loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. When he noticed everyone’s eyes on him, he laughed dryly, “Oh wait! I seem to have forgotten that as the conqueror of the nine realms that wouldn’t be something you care about.”   
Odin looked down at his son with disdain, “And this is why you’re not invited to the Gala’s council meeting.”   
“And who would you have in my place? Thor is unavailable.”   
“No one. Your lack of strategic intelligence, vanity and inability to communicate with foreign dignitaries, especially after your stint on Midgard makes you all but worthless in that meeting.”   
The Prince’s lips curled into a cruel smile, “No one would have been offended if you had simply said worthless, Father.”   
“Unlike you, I am not petty enough to begin exchanging insults. You are not even worth that.” Loki tried to reply but the king was no longer having it. “In fact, I have no idea why I bothered to include you in this meeting.”   
Odin turned to his two councilmen, “I apologize for my foolish behaviour in believing that Loki could ever match Thor’s expertise and compassion in the matter. It won’t happen again.”   
Even though you were a foot away from Loki you felt him flinch at his father’s words. You didn’t look over at him, not wanting to acknowledge his feelings any more than he already had, but you knew you wouldn’t find anything in those green eyes except for rage. Rage that was not unmerited and that you couldn’t help feel as well.   
The Prince didn’t move, so you didn’t either, despite how much you wanted to jump across the table and stab some sense into the king.   
“Loki, you may leave now.” Although his words were polite, there was nothing of the sort in Odin’s tone.   
Swinging his feet off the table, he shrugged and motioned for you to follow him out. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have said he couldn’t have cared in the least. But you did and his pride was the only reason you stopped yourself from trying to catch his eye to see if he was okay.   
You had just pushed up from your seat when Odin commanded you stay. You looked up at Loki for confirmation, but he was lost somewhere in his own pain and anger, barely present anymore.   
“Not you Loki. You’re dismissed.”   
You watched your only ally stride off without a glance in your direction and found yourself barely being able to contain the anger inside you. Everything about this situation made you want to scream. You were so damn tired of having to submit to the kings wishes. You were tired of watching Loki get broken down by the man who was supposed to be his father. You were tired of him pretending he was okay. You were tired of pretending you were okay. But you held onto that rage, afraid that if you gave into that fatigue you wouldn’t have enough fight left to make it out alive.   
“I don’t believe I need to warn you about keeping a low profile at the ball,” Odin waited for you to shake your head before continuing, “You know very well what our agreement was if you don’t comply.”   
Almost scoffing at the word agreement, you somehow managed to keep your mouth shut, your fists balled so tightly it felt like your nails were about to pierce the skin. Even though you probably did a terrible job at keeping the hateful glare out of your eyes, the king dismissed you with a wave and had already turned his attention back to the two council men before you had even left the room. You weren’t a threat to him. You were a pathetic little earthling he could boss around as he pleased. Taking in a deep breath, you tried to calm the anger vibrating inside of you, but the only coherent thought that came out of it was the promise that after you made if off Asgard, you would return and take something precious of his. No matter how much you had felt like you had lost yourself being trapped in this palace, you were a thief and a damned good one. It was his own damn fault for forgetting it.   
But even with all that anger you somehow managed to feel more dread than before you had walked in, your heart hammering as if it only had a few hours left of beating and it wanted to get as much in before it stopped. You were now walking a tightrope as far as Odin was concerned. What had set him off though, you had no idea. It might have been something you had done, it could have been the approaching, last minute gala, or even something the Prince had done.   
The Prince. Loki.   
The thought of him stiffening beside you as if his father at physically stabbed him sent a new wave of fury crashing through you and you picked up the pace. You had no idea where he had gone and you had no idea why you were so intent on finding him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from stomping down the hallway, pissed, afraid and worried.   
The odds of him having gone to his room were slim, but you weren’t sure where else to look. It didn’t escape your mind that if he didn’t want to be found the likelihood of you finding him was practically non-existent, but you hadn’t spent so much time with him to not have at least some sort of clue.   
With every step it seemed you came up with an idea about his whereabouts that was too easily dismissed. You tried walk faster but tripped on the hem of your stupid dress, tumbling to the ground. You cursed, not caring who was around to hear. If you had still been wearing your pants, then walking quickly wouldn’t have been a challenge at all. After half a year of wearing dresses almost as often as you had throughout your entire life, you still couldn’t get it your head to pick it up while moving quickly.   
Looking up, you noticed a familiar silhouette at the end of a small hallway so discreet you wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t fallen to the group. You pushed yourself up. At least there was one positive thing about falling to the ground like a complete idiot.   
A long exhale of relief let out some of the tension that had been building inside of you. As you slowly approached, you noticed the hallway let out onto a balcony, a cool wind tunnelling down and sending shivers down your spine. Pausing at the doorway, you wondered what exactly you were doing here and almost turned around. The relief you had felt at the sight of him was long gone now, replaced by the sound of your heart pounding nervously in your chest.   
You waited until it slowed - until you managed to tuck your emotions as far away as possible - and stepped out onto the wide, marble balcony. Millions of stars lit of the sky, twinkling lights mirroring the colourful glow of the bridge in the distance. The golden city below was silent at this hour, the houses a dragon’s trove, peaceful and awaiting the disruption and chaos following the thief in search of a great score. If only you were still that thief and not its prisoner.   
Loki had his back to the palace as he looked out at the city, the wind combing his hair back over his tense shoulders. You didn’t say anything as you approached and you weren’t expecting him to say anything either. He had come here for the silence and unless prompted, you knew he wouldn’t say anything. Silence was the least you could offer him. Paired with the incredible view, it also gave you a chance to calm down, to take a step back from the charged meeting and everything else you had been dealing with since you had arrived. And also think of something to say when he was ready to talk.   
Only when he let out a long, defeated sigh did you speak up, still looking out at the horizon, “hi.”   
You winced, knowing it wasn’t your best opening line, especially considering how long you had had to think of something better to say. Unfortunately, it was the only thing you could think of.   
“Hello Midgardian.” He answered in a soft, bemused voice.   
You waited a moment, then asked the question that had been on your mind since the meeting, “Are you all right wolf?”   
“Either the gossip has evaded you, or you’ve forgotten that I attempted to conquer Midgard years ago. What you just saw was nothing compared to the after math of that…decision.”   
You didn’t say anything, picking up on the hurt and resentment cracking the mask you only recently learned to see through. You certainly weren’t about to ask the question you sure everyone had asked him at the mention of his failed rebellion. Why did he do it?  
The rumours you had heard had all been about power, vanity or jealousy, but you had spent too much time with the Prince to know that if those were true, they were simply superficial. Theoretically, there was no one more loved than a king and when the king had no love for the person he should have unconditional love for - adopted or not - you understood what had driven him to make the decisions he had. It didn’t make what he had done any less wrong or right, it simply made the Prince more human than he would ever admit to you or to himself. And, after having spent so much time on Asgard, you were beginning to realize that he might be more human than almost everyone you had met here - and definitely more human than any of the rumours had made him out to be.   
“Are you not going to ask why I did it?” He demanded when you had been silent for too long.   
You shook your head, “no.”   
“I see.” The resentment in his voice was palpable and only grew worse when he guessed the reason for your answer, “The rumours must be a satisfying answer for you then.”   
He went to turn away, but you stopped him with a gentle hand to his forearm.   
“Loki,” you felt him shiver beneath your touch, “I don’t need to hear it from you, because whatever the reason is, it doesn’t matter. Despite what everyone else might say, I know you’re not cruel.”   
With a wan smile, void of his usual humour, he said, “Then you may be the only one ignorant to believe it.”   
You shook your head, refusing to let go of him - refusing to let him walk away without hearing what you had to say. You had bothered trying to find him, and although you weren’t sure why you cared so much, you weren’t going to leave until you said the words you knew he needed to hear, “You and I both know I’m not ignorant, which means you and I both know I’m right.”   
“Even if that were true,” he sighed, looked over your head, past you, “You’d be the only one to believe it.”   
“You know…” You paused, suddenly unsure you wanted to say what you were about to.   
You didn’t want him thinking you wanted to change him, because that was the last thing you wanted, and the least thing you knew he should hear. But you hated his small smile. It felt so wrong. He was the only interesting person on this damn planet, you realized, and without him, you might have died of boredom, or more realistically, broken down from the fear of being trapped here. He had been the distraction you needed and the only person to keep you fighting, even if it was fighting that infuriating grin on his face. That infuriating grin being the only one that belong there. It may have been gone for less than an hour, but you missed the smile that lit up his face with mischief and woke the wolf within, even if it did make you want to throw him off a bridge when it was turned your way.  
“If you were to show them who you are, change that image, then maybe you could escape those rumours.” You continued, deciding you had no choice but to say it.   
He shrugged with a bitter laugh. “Those rumours are a prison that I’ve never and will never escape from. I can do whatever I want, and they will still paint me in the same light.” His gaze dropped to find yours. “They all know that they cannot be saints if there is no sinner.”   
“And that doesn’t bother you?” You murmured, looking into those eyes, hoping you could find the truth in them.   
“Not always.” He whispered, his expression unreadable in the pale light.   
“And why’s that?” You breathed.   
The turn of his lips was so slight, you almost missed it, but it was enough to know that some of that familiar mischief had returned. “Because you and I both know that you don’t have to be nice to have morals. And knowing someone else knows that…”   
He trailed off, the unspoken words dying on his lips, but you knew what he refused to say  
Knowing you weren’t alone… well that was enough.   
You didn’t speak the words either. Until being forced to spend time with him, you hadn’t realized how easy it had become to feel different and alone, and not be aware of it. You hadn’t realized how easy it had become to distance yourself from everyone else because you didn’t think there could ever be anyone else out there like you - anyone else who could understand. Thinking about it now, maybe those feelings had been the reason you had chosen your job. If you were going to feel like an outcast, then the least you could do to deal with it was make yourself the embodiment of alienation by sailing out into space. You just never thought that getting stranded on a foreign planet was what it would take to find someone else…like you.   
The sudden realizing made you aware of how close you were standing to him, your hand still on his arm. As if having read your mind, Loki looked down to where your two bodies met. Even if you were barely touching, now that you were aware of the contact it was as if you could feel an electric current heating the place where your skin touched his. When he looked back up, his eyes met yours, and for a moment, the whole world around him fell away. All you could see were those fiery green eyes, dark and filled with something you had never seen before. The night cast shadows over his sharp cheekbones, almost hiding those slightly quirked up lips - lips you suddenly felt drawn to. You didn’t know if he moved his arm or if you were pulled closer by some unseen force, but you felt yourself inch forward, tilting your head slowly.   
A crash sounded from the room below the balcony, snapping you out of your trance. You broke away, readjusting your jacket. Goosebumps ran along your skin, the Prince’s warmth fading as he took a step back, running his hand through his hair.   
Loki grinned, the mask it seemed, snapping back into place with the distance. “I would suggest getting some rest Midgardian. We have another affair tomorrow that I can assure you will be long, tedious and filled with idiots. A hearty breakfast would also be preferable.”   
You only nodded, still a little stunned by what had almost happened, and you watched him stride past, heading for the door.   
Whatever had just happened would be long forgotten by tomorrow’s meeting. Your agreement relied on both of you keeping each other alive and that was exactly what both of you were doing. Nothing more. There were only a couple month left to your service, but until then, you had bargain to keep and a fine line to walk if you didn’t want to end up back in that cell.


	12. A Deadly Rock and a Hard Decision

Loki paced the length of his bedroom floor, wracking his brain.   
It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to find.   
He let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of his empty room. Of course, it was supposed to be this hard to find. He had been lying to himself if thought it wasn’t. Odin would have found it centuries ago if any mere Asgardian could find it. That was precisely the reason Loki believed that he would be the one to find it. He was no mere Asgardian. He was born to live in greatness rather than the shadows of others. Even if he had taken a liking to the freedom he found in the shadows, it did not mean he was content to remain there. Instead, it meant that he had found friends - or more precisely tentative allies - with the creatures in the darkness. His familiarity with the shadows would be the exact reason he would find it when no one else could.   
His rightful accession to the throne was so close he could sense that what he was looking for was barely out of his reach. He only needed to search one last forgotten corner of the realms to find it. But the gala’s change in venue meant his opportunities for slinking away unnoticed would be slim. All he had to do was think everything through carefully - and he always did - and he could manage one last search before the event at the end of the week.   
He knew that it was not necessary to pressure himself to find it before the gala, but he would rest easier if he did. Even hours after the meeting with Odin, Loki couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had been plaguing him since he had walked through those doors. After his…little chat…with the Midgardian, he had locked away Odin’s words and buried them deep enough that they would no longer distract him, so he could focus on what was truly important.  
Why had Odin called both of them into the meeting?   
When Loki had been summoned, his immediate thought had been that Odin had caught wind of the purpose of his little outings, but when the Midgardian had been summoned as well, the only emotion he had felt had been confusion. And possibly, though unlikely, a minuscule amount of worry. But that worry was only regarding the success and smooth execution of his plan. Nothing else. Nothing that had to do with her.   
Loki was glad he had walked off the balcony when he had. For a moment, he had felt his control begin to slip and he didn’t know what he would have done if he had stayed there any longer. He hadn’t been lying when he had told her that she was the scariest thing on this planet. She was the only person here who made him feel so exposed, as if she blew past the facade everyone else bought so easily. Or maybe it wasn’t that she could see past it. Maybe she was the only one who didn’t judge him based on what she expected to see.   
Loki had to keep his wits when he was around her. She was there to facilitate his plan and only that. It didn’t matter that she kept standing by his side, almost as she were his true ally. She had her own goals - goals that had nothing to do with him. He was alone, would always be, and he did not need anyone else for that matter.   
But just because he didn’t need her didn’t mean that she couldn’t be a useful asset. Loki refused to call it luck - he didn’t believe that he was the kind of person who wasn’t cunning enough to have to rely on it to get by - but her crashing on Asgard had been exactly what he had needed to set a plan in motion.   
Never in a thousand years had he imagined that Odin would have thought of keeping a Midgardian prisoner, but her reputation, even if it had taken Loki by surprise, had been enough to make Odin hesitate. The moment Odin had paused and suggested that she become an ambassador, Loki realized that he could use her to properly execute his plan. All it had taken to ensure that the Midgardian live, was a bit of reverse psychology, so basic it only would have worked on a child. Or Odin.   
There was no one Odin listened to less than his own son and when Loki had opposed the Midgardian’s qualifications to become Asgard’s ambassador, her sentence as a prisoner had been solidified. It had given him enough time to convince her to make an opened ended deal, ensuring he would ultimately get his way. Although she had stubbornly made him work harder for that deal and use more magic to keep her alive then he had initially planned, it was all going to pay off. However, that was on the condition that he found The Warlock’s Eye.   
The real one had gone missing from Odin’s vault almost two hundred years ago. Loki had considered trying to find a few years ago in order to take the throne, but there was the possibility that Odin could resist its magic and that wasn’t a gamble Loki had been about to make. His other possibility had been finding and returning it in exchange for the glory and respect of the people, but he knew that would be a false hope. No one would trust his intents regarding something to powerful. Yet, Loki knew that a well-crafted lie, the promise of peaceful relations with another realm and a foreign dignitary could tip the scale in his favour.   
Until recently, he had been planning on accusing the Midgardian for having stolen The Warlock’s Eye, and outing her in front of the council, knowing the discovery and return of such a valuable object would have granted him the exact closeness he needed to take the throne. But, as he walked away from her earlier tonight, the thought of what he wanted to do set him on edge. He could tell the feeling had been building up for some time now but had only now fully decided to change his plan. Not because of her of course, but because he figured that the population of Asgard much preferred a king to begin his reign on promises of peace rather than condemnation and hostility. If he and the Midgardian presented The Warlock’s Eye to Odin as a promise of peace and continued harmony between the two realms, in front of enough gullible and powerful Asgardian’s along with the council, then he would be mere steps away from his goal. Loki could create the liaison between Asgard and Midgard that would make Thor jealous. The people of Asgard would love and respect him, and they would soon come to realize that a younger, more capable king was exactly what they needed.   
Loki stopped his pacing. Now all he needed to do was find the relic. Because regardless of whether he used the Midgardian’s help or not, he wouldn’t be able to complete his plan without it.   
A smile snaked its way to his lips. He suddenly knew exactly where to look. 

“Where were you yesterday?” She puffed, hands on her knees as she tried to regain her breath from their latest sparring session.   
Loki wanted to tell her. He wanted to smile as bright as the sun and tell her that he had finally found the most important piece to his plan, but he couldn’t tell her. No. She couldn’t know until he was ready to tell the rest of Asgard, because he knew that if he did, she would refuse to help, and he wouldn’t risk failing.   
Instead, he offered her his usual shrug and said, “Nowhere important.”   
She rolled her eyes the same way she did every time he answered this question, “I find that hard to believe.”   
“And why’s that?” Loki asked, wanting to see what she saw when she looked at him.   
He liked watching the way she tried to put everything together despite missing so many pieces to the puzzle. It always interested him to see how close she could get to the truth, her observational skills probably due to her many years as a thief.   
“The main reason is because you’ve gone on so many little outings that I doubt they aren’t all connected,” She stood and took a long gulp of water before continuing, “But you also look like the cat who ate the canary and I doubt you’d look that smug if it wasn’t anything important.”   
Loki hadn’t thought he looked smug, but then again, after having successfully broken into one of the most highly guarded vaults in the universe and having been most annoyingly stabbed for no good reason a few weeks ago, he figured maybe he deserved to look a little smug. However, he knew it would only look suspicious if he did and tried to mask his relief a little.   
“If I look that way, it is only because you have never beaten me once during our little practices Midgardian.” He drawled.   
Her lips pulled into a knowing smile that always managed to worry him a little, “Seeing as you didn’t deny my first assumption, I’ll take that as you basically telling me that I’m right. And how about we go for another round and I wipe that smug look off your face.”   
Her words only made his grin widen and he beckoned for her to try her best.   
She put down the flask and backed into a fighting stance. She had to know that she wouldn’t win, but she had never once given up and it didn’t look like she was about to now. As a human, she was seriously outmatched, but her determination and intelligence made it that she could keep up long enough for him to have fun toying with her. They never used weapons - he was afraid she’d get hurt if they did - but regardless, it was a good way to exercise and keep his mind off of his plans for an hour.   
Although the past week had been busy with preparations for the gala, they had found time to train every day, both of them needing to let off a little steam after the excruciating meetings. He was glad she was here, though he would never say that aloud, lest she get the wrong idea. With every meeting, her role as ambassador solidified, which only aided his cause. Having her around also had the side benefit of him having company through meetings he never would have endured alone. Oddly enough, he almost found himself looking forward to the months after the gala, knowing everything would return to normal. After another week of playing, Loki was still losing their little game 8-9, and he had every intention of righting that wrong. If he played his cards right, he could even finish the night ahead.   
He snapped out of his thoughts, barely dodging the fist she sent flying toward his face. Although he held back, making sure that whatever happened to her she could easily walk off without more than a bruise, she never held back, aiming to cause as much damage as humanly possible. Of course, he probably deserved whatever harm she intended on causing - he would especially deserve it once he announced his plan in front of half of Asgard - but he would never let her win. It wasn’t part of his nature. But Loki didn’t only do it for his own benefit, he did it for hers as well. He knew that she would take offence if he let her win. She would fight and steal her way to victory the same way she had been doing her whole life. He wasn’t about to give her a break now.   
Her grin widened when she noticed she had caught him off guard, and she sent the next two hits with twice as much force. He blocked both easily. Expecting another overly confident hit, he twisted, planning on returning with a blow of his own, but she feigned right and twisted in the opposite direction, managing to hook a leg around his.   
Stunned, the maneuver pulled him off balance and she sent the hilt of her palm smashing into his chest. Whether he liked it or not, the force of blow was strong enough that Loki knew exactly what was about to happen. Before it did, he decided that if he was going down, he was going to take her with him and he wrapped his hands around her arms, pulling her to the ground with him.   
The wind was knocked out of him as they landed, her body lined up on top of his. All he could hear was the sound of her cackling until, between breaths, he heard her choke out, “I did it. I won.”   
He looked up into those crazy eyes, bright with joy, and he didn’t feel a single ounce of the usual disappointment or frustration that should have come with losing.   
When her laughter died down, she raised an eyebrow, “What are you smiling about?”   
He hadn’t realized he had been.   
She frowned. “Had I known you were going to stop I wouldn’t have said anything.”   
She was about to push up but stopped when he asked, “And why’s that?”   
Loki realized it was a question he often found himself asking her. He decided it was because he wanted to know more about the average Midgardian’s train of thought. Which might have been the truth if he actually believed she was average.   
“Because it’s not a bad look on you.” She offered with a small smile.  
Her words suddenly made him aware of her proximity, one he wasn’t sure he minded. “I’ll have you know that I smile every day Midgardian. You’ll see it all evening at the gala tonight.”   
“But it’s not going to be this smile.” She murmured, shaking her head, “Every single other one has a purpose. Not this one. This one is…different.”   
“Good different or bad different?” He found himself whispering, drawn in by the wild look in her eyes and her flushed face.   
She nodded. “Good.”   
Just then, her stomach made the strangest sound he had ever heard, and her eyes widened before she burst out laughing once again and rolled over to the side, “Just so you know, I beat you on an empty stomach, which is even more impressive.”   
She stood, brushing herself off and looked down at him as if nothing had ever happened - not that it had - waiting for his witty comeback. He should have had something to say, but all he could do was lie there for a moment, thinking about how much warmer he had been with her so close.   
“I can assure you that it won’t happen again.” He came to a stand in front of her. “I was simply distracted.”   
She titled her head, look up at him with a playful smirk, “By what? My charming good looks and stunning personality.”   
“By tonight’s gala.” He answered curtly, taking a step back.   
His words wiped all the teasing humour from her face, and for a moment her wished he would have taken them back. But he knew he couldn’t, and it was better that way anyhow.  
Remaining silent, he watched as she looked up at the darkening sky. “Well…I guess I should probably go get ready right…We don’t want to be late for the party.”   
He nodded.   
“When will you be at my door?”   
“I won’t be. Whenever you’re ready you can make your way to the ballroom.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “I will meet you there.”   
“Oh…” A strange look crossed her face but was quickly replaced with a smile, “Take as long as you want. It’ll only give me time to keep convincing gullible Asgardians that brown cows make chocolate milk. Just so you know, I’m winning 9-8 for that too.”   
“Don’t get too confident Midgardian.” He grinned, backing away with his eyes trained on her, “I won’t be far behind.”   
He watched her shake her head and walk off, a tiny smile on her lips, before he went his own way. There was something he wanted to do, and there was no way he could do it properly if he came to get her and they walked in together. 

 

Dressed and ready for the gala earlier than he had planned, Loki decided to take the long way to the ballroom. There was a chance that the Midgardian wasn’t there yet, and although it didn’t matter if he arrived before her, coming in after meant making an entrance. And quite frankly, Loki loved a little show.   
The halls were deserted, most of the people already at the gala, and the few there weren’t felt no need to take the smaller, winding hallways. Loki strolled as if he had nowhere better to be, taking in the silence of the empty palace. He had been attending events like these since he was a child, yet he knew he would be craving silence about halfway through the night and would want to slip away for a little. As much as he enjoyed spotlight and the festivities, he knew eventually he wouldn’t be able to think anymore, which would ultimately lead to him creating a little chaos to clear his mind. He couldn’t have any of that tonight, so he took in as much of the silence as he could before it began.   
The voices down the hall weren’t loud, but the emptiness of the palace sent the whispers echoing toward Loki. His heart picked up when he realized it was Odin’s voice he was hearing. Loki slowed his steps, erasing all sound around him. Whatever was going on, he intended on hearing it.  
“I couldn’t simply kill her.” Odin spat, clearly annoyed.   
Another voice, one he recognized as the head councilman spoke next, “Why not? You had her in the dungeon for weeks.”   
His heart dropped to his stomach. If he had any doubts as to who they were talking about, they were gone now. Loki supposed he should be thankful he was finally getting answers to his questions, but all he could feel was dread.   
“I held her in the dungeon while we searched the realms to see if there was another planet who wanted justice for her crimes.” Odin explained.   
“And were there?” The councilman asked.   
“Yes, but none of the planets were ones we could have traded her in for a peace alliance. We had decided it was better to kill her ourselves, make sure she was truly dead.”   
Even though Loki had suspected all this while she was being held captive, hearing the words aloud and the casual mention of her death sent him on edge. He let his anger simmer in the back part of his mind, refusing to let it distract him from hearing the rest of the conversation.   
“What are you going to do about it? Why ask her to come to the gala? Why make her blend in?” Loki was relieved the council man was actually asking all the right questions.   
“Because the people have grown to like her and expect her to be there. And I’m making her blend in so that she does not attract the attention of the foreign council members.” Odin replied, slowly as if talking to a child.   
“Why not?”   
Everything around him went cold. The councilman might have been confused as to what Odin was planning, but Loki was almost certain her knew what Odin was about to say.   
“Because the gala is the perfect opportunity for a thief to take a precious artifact from the vault and disappear with it.”   
“And you think she’s going to do that?”   
“Highly doubtful.” Odin laughed, the sound humourless. “She believes she is free in two months time. She would not risk it now. She’s too smart for that.”   
“Then how does this help you?” The councilman asked, his mind taking far longer to understand the plan than Loki’s.  
“It’s the perfect excuse to feed the people and get her off our hands. What thief wouldn’t use an important gala to try and rob the vault? They don’t need to know what really happened to her or that she’ll have been framed and executed for a crime she didn’t commit. She’s a blight on the realms, no one will miss her.”   
The words rooted him to the spot. Loki’s heart hammered so loudly in his ears, he barely heard the councilman speak, “You believe this is true?”   
“Absolutely. Midgard is not aware she is here. She’s a thief and whoever she works for must know that as well. If she gets caught, I’m certain they want nothing to do with her.” Odin affirmed.   
“Then that settles that matter. One final matter before…”   
The conversation quickly moved to other gala aspects, but Loki could no longer hear what they were saying. He looked around uselessly, hoping the answer to his new problem was somehow written on the gold walls.   
They were going to kill her. Tonight. He was going to have to decide what he wanted to do about her and his plan. And soon.


	13. A Gaudy Gala, A Sly Prince and a Bittersweet Exit

Smoothing down your dress, you searched the party for the one person you actually wanted to see and sighed when you came up empty.  
The dress that had been left on your bed earlier that evening wasn’t attention grabbing or flashy, but it was the most beautiful gown you had ever seen. The cut was simple and flattered your body far more than any of the other dresses you had worn, and the material soft and unrestrictive. Whoever had chosen the dress had also been kind enough to decide on something that, as far as dresses went, didn’t restrict your movements much and wouldn’t leave you with an array of angry red dress marks. When you had seen yourself in the mirror, you had smiled. You actually felt like yourself and that was more you ever would have asked from a dress.  
With so many other stunning Asgardians that had shown up, you doubted the reason so many of them were looking at you was because of your attire. You guessed it was more likely because they still hadn’t gotten over the fact that there was a Midgardian in their midst. But you didn’t care about getting their attention. Their attention didn’t matter to you and it terrified you that there was one person whose attention did.  
You hated how disappointed you had been when Loki had told you he wouldn’t come to pick you up. It wasn’t only that you liked having him by your side when you walked into fancy meetings and parties, but also that you…liked him. The realization had blindsided you and you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out when or how it had happened. As soon as the thought had crossed your mind, you had shoved it to a far corner where it needed to stay and never resurface. And getting ready had been a whirlwind of emotions, especially when you had looked into the mirror and had wished he could see you without the distractions of the party around. But you knew you couldn’t feel this way about him. Not because of who he was, but because of what it might do to you when he told you that he didn’t feel the same way.  
Although those thoughts had raced through your head the moment you had learned you would be walking into the party alone, you were pretty sure you had hidden your feelings well, hoping you had brushed it off without him suspecting a thing. You were a grown woman. Despite the fact that you wanted him to take you to the gala as if he was your prom date, you had strode into the ballroom with your head held high.  
It had felt like an eternity since then. You had no idea where the prince was or why it was taking him so long to get here, but the gala was in full swing now, and you had no idea what to do with yourself. From your past party experience, hanging around the buffet table in the back of the room had seemed like your safest bet, especially considering the fact that Odin didn’t want you attracting any attention to yourself, so it was what you had done. Laying low was something you were more than happy to do. Honestly, without the prince there to convince you to stay - or to keep you company for that matter - you were seriously considering leaving.  
If your presence here had to be discreet than what better way than to leave early. It was probably better that you weren’t here at all. A night reading, alone, not talking to a single soul…well that was a hell of a lot more appealing than being at a party and being told not to socialize. Not that you really wanted to socialize anyways.  
A few of the kinder Asgardians had taken pity on you and had stopped to say hello, but the conversations had quickly died out. But even though only a few came and talked to you, and even if you had been making yourself as small as possible, you still felt their eyes drawn to you like magnets. Once again, you found yourself wishing for the prince.  
Without a watch, you had no idea what time it was, but you figured you had waited here, alone, long enough. You had made an appearance, which had to count for something.  
You were weaving through the crowd and heading for the door when you heard a familiar voice.  
“Excuse me (y/n), may I have this dance?”  
You pasted on a smile and turned, knowing it wasn’t Asger’s fault you were alone and miserable. If anything, he was actually trying to help, and you weren’t about to tell him to go away simply because you thought he was someone else. No. If you were going to pretend your feelings didn’t exist and pretend everything was normal, then you were going to start by dancing with Asger.  
“Of course,” you nodded, placing a hand in his, “I would love to.”  
He led you towards the centre of the room, and place his hand tentatively on your waist. The two of you moved slowly, an awkward space between your two bodies despite how many people were dancing so close around you. You weren’t sure what to say, or if you should say anything at all. The music was upbeat, the beat growing as the song proceeded. You didn’t know if it was the crowded room or your heart following in time with the music but your it began to race, and you were starting to feel like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin. You were more than ready for this day to be over, but you took in a steading breath and told yourself to at least finish the song.  
“(y/n)?”  
You looked up into those soft brown eyes, “Yes Asger?”  
“I was hoping that” You didn’t hear the rest of what he was saying but you knew exactly where he was about to go with his sentence.  
Looking at him, you wondered why you couldn’t feel anything for him instead. He was kind, honest and beautiful, and yet you knew with absolute certainty that you would never feel anything other than friendship for him. Your brain kicked into overdrive as you began to panic, wondering how you were supposed to respond and suddenly it felt hard to breath.  
“(y/n)?” Asger stopped moving, probably having asked a question that you should have answered by now.  
You just - you needed to get out. You needed to get a handle on your thoughts, somewhere where it didn’t feel like the world around you was so cluttered and jammed with people that you couldn’t hear yourself think.  
“I’m sorry Asger…I just…I need a second.” You managed. “But thank you for the dance…it was lovely.”  
You tried not to look at the confused and hurt look on his face before you tore through the crowd, trying to make it to the back doors of the room. You needed to get out of the ballroom. It felt like everyone was on the dance floor and the harder you pushed to escape, the more it felt like everyone was closing in. Your head spun, disoriented by the bustle of people around you, and you could feel the panic taking over as you lost sight of the exit.  
Suddenly, almost as if on cue, there was a break in the crowd, and at the other end of the tunnel of people, directly in your line of sight, there he stood. You stopped moving. As if sensing your eyes on him, his searching gaze found yours, and as soon as the corner of his mouth quirked up, visible even from a distance, you let out the first deep breath of the evening. The urge to leave was quashed under the need to go to him, but you remained rooted to the spot. Maybe you would have gone to him before you had discovered these feelings of yours, but you weren’t about to risk him figuring it out by going to him instead of waiting for him to come to you.  
He strolled towards you, but you noticed something a little off about his gait. Then, you smiled, the familiarity of it all - the posh party and the prince’s cunning - releasing the pressure in your chest. The closer he got to you, the easier it became to breath, until the only reason your heart fluttered was one that under any other circumstance, wouldn’t have been considered a bad thing.  
He stopped for a moment, letting another party guest pass by, before taking the final steps to reach you. You inhaled another deep breath, the smell of partygoer’s perfume and circulating hors d’oeuvres filling your nose, no hint of his familiar pine and lemon scent.  
He extended his hand, silently asking you to dance, but you shook your head.  
“I don’t want to dance with you Loki.” You watched his face fall, confusion flashing across it, but you only smiled. “It’s a good illusion, one of your best really, but I like my dance partners to be, you know, alive and real.”  
For a moment, you weren’t sure you had guessed correctly, but then the illusion faded, and what you saw behind it made your heart stop.  
There in the centre of all the Asgardian colours and fashion stood Loki in a fitted, black Midgardian suit. If the otherworldly clothes didn’t set him apart then the fact that he was clad in black from head to toe did. The shirt underneath matched his ink hair, which he had slicked back, letting it fall to his shoulders. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a satisfied little smirk and as he approached you noticed that the shiny lapels of his jacket and tie were not actually black but a green so dark the colour could only be seen in the right light.  
The crowd seemed to part for him and when he stopped in front of you, you were speechless.  
He smirked, rocked back on his heels and bent at the waist with his hand out, “May I?”  
You nodded, unable to say anything as put your hand in his. Straightening, he pulled you towards him, his strong hand on the small of your back and his fingers intertwined with yours as he led you into a slow dance. With your bodies pressed together, you could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and you smiled, knowing this was no illusion. You were sure he could also feel your pounding heart in your chest, and you tried to push away the feelings and just enjoy yourself.  
He dipped his head down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I thought that this time they could take their eyes off of you by looking at me instead.”  
The dangerous tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine, “And how’s that working out?”  
“Not very well,” he growled, “they can’t take their eyes off of you.”  
You laughed, “Rightfully so. We’re stunning.”  
He stopped moving and pulled back so that he could look at you, his eyes scanning every inch of your face.  
“We are.” He murmured. “Absolutely stunning.”  
Afraid you would so something stupid, you broke away from his intense gaze and stared straight at his tie instead as you started dancing again.  
“So, where were you?” You asked, trying not to focus on the fresh smell of lemon and pine, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.”  
“I had last minute things to attend to that took a little longer than I had initially believed they would.” Something sounded off in his voice but when you dipped back to look up at him, his raised eyebrow and sly grin said the opposite.  
He was about to lead you into a spin, but you paused, noticing a black smudge on his jaw. Before you could even think about what you were doing you lifted your hand to wipe it away.  
Your fingers came back with a black substance that was all too familiar. His eyes, which had been following the movement, widened when he saw what was on your fingers.  
His long fingers wrapped around gently around your wrist, a roguish grin replacing the look of surprise, “Careful. You wouldn’t want to get that on your dress, it stains.”  
“I know that.” You smeared it between your thumb and forefinger, “the question prince, is why would you have engine grease on your face?”  
“You don’t believe I teleport everywhere I wish to go, do you?” He asked while the black vanished from both your fingers and his face.  
You were about to demand more of an explanation, but Odin’s voice cut across the room, silencing the room with its power for attention.  
Loki’s fingers slipped further around your waist at the sound, keeping you close with a steady pressure. The reaction was unexpected, but you didn’t mind the closeness. Even though you knew you normally would have shrugged him off, you stood tucked into his side, listening to Odin’s speech about his visions of continuous peace.  
The king’s gaze scanned the room as he continued to speak but instead of brushing over you like it had all night, it lingered on you for a moment. Something in your gut curled in terror. You couldn’t explain why, but that one eye seemed to bore into you with such hatred, you had only needed the two seconds it had lingered on you to feel it.  
When he wrapped up his speech, you clapped along politely with everyone else, but you weren’t really present in the room. Your mind was racing with thoughts about the king, wondering what had happened in the last week to make him look at you the way he did. A part of you wondered if you had caught a glimpse of the looks Loki received from his father but you had known it wasn’t true. Deep down, you had known the look was meant for you.  
“Midgardian,” His whisper against your ear made you jump, “I didn’t mean to scare you, but how about we leave this gala. I believe we’ve been here long enough.”  
You only nodded. His arm left your waist and you shivered, feeling cold without its comforting weight, but he took your arm in his and lead you toward the exit. The path you took was long and winding, weaving in and out of crowds until finally, you emerged out onto a balcony similar to the one you were on last week.  
Loki took a step away, running his fingers through his already messy hair. Something seemed to be bothering him, and he opened his mouth to speak twice but shut it both times. You had never seen him look so disgruntled, and the worry that had settled deep in your gut at the gala found itself resurfacing.  
His warring mind seemed to have come to a conclusion when he let out a long breath and turned to face you, a grin plastered on his lips. That was when you knew something was wrong. You had never been on the receiving end of that smile, and the fact that you were getting it now could only mean that he was about to lie to you. You were about to tell him not to bother with whatever was about to come out of his mouth, but his words stunned you into silence.  
“I found the piece you needed for your ship.” The words were barely audible, and you were tempted to ask him to repeat it but you knew you had heard correctly.  
You could go leave. Get back to Earth.  
“Why?” You didn’t want to question a good thing, but you couldn’t help it. “Why now?”  
He shrugged as if he had no particular reason, which you knew was as far from the truth as possible. There was nothing he did that he didn’t think through first.  
“Think of it as a prize for having guessed my illusion so quickly.”  
“What’s the real reason?” You shot back.  
He raised a brow, annoyed. “If you don’t want to leave that’s fine with me.”  
You stopped protesting. He was right. This was your way out. He was ready to hand you what you had been working so hard for the last months. You looked him over, noticing once again that he looked like he couldn’t stand still, which wasn’t like him. Your gut told you that he was hiding something, but the prospect of leaving Asgard was finally hitting you, and it was getting hard to think things through properly.  
“I don’t mean to rush you Midgardian, but it’s now or never.”  
Those green eyes were bright and alert, ready for your answer.  
You nodded, “Yeah, of course. Let’s go.”  
His shoulders relaxed and he motioned for you to follow him. Maybe the two of you had really become friends and he was doing what he thought was right. Maybe that was why he looked so uncomfortable, you thought, staring at his back as you picked up the pace to catch up to him.  
The two of you walked down the hallways in plain sight, nodding your hellos to the passing Asgardians. Of all the escape plans you had imagined in your head, this one as far more out in the open than you had pictured.  
You headed through a part of the palace you had never seen before, and not before long, you stepped out onto a narrow cobblestone road that lead out into a forest less than a hundred yards from the palace.  
Taking in a long deep breath of fresh air, you smiled, feeling like you could properly breath for the first time in months. You were going to your ship! Suddenly the idea that you were leaving Asgard felt very real, and you felt your excitement build.  
Loki looked down at you with a little smirk on his face. “How does it feel to be an outlaw?”  
You grinned back at him, “Like home.”  
His eyes searched your face for a moment before he cleared his throat and looked back out to the forest, “Come. We’re almost there.”  
The trees formed a thick canopy above your heads, plunging the two of you into darkness. Loki pulled a lamp out of thin air and set the forest aglow, casting eerie shadows as you wove through the trees.  
The cloth slippers you were wearing were now soaked through from the wet earth and when you stepped in a puddle you hadn’t seen, the sound caught Loki’s attention.  
“I have something you might like Midgardian.”  
He conjured your boots, your dirty socks crumpled in them because you hadn’t had time to wash them, but the sight made you sigh with relief. Your toes had been starting to tingle with the cold, and you hadn’t been sure how much longer you would have been able to walk.  
He lifted his lamp a little higher so that you could see a large, nearby boulder, and you sat on it to put your boots.  
It felt strange that neither of you were speaking, but the looming prospect of departure seem to steal the words from both of you. As excited as you were to be free, a small part of you was a little sad to be leaving. Not Asgard. No, you wouldn’t miss the place much, but one person in particular.  
He nodded when you were ready to go, and you followed at his side, the dim light barely enough to see the roots and holes in the ground.  
“Was that Asger I saw you running away from?” He asked out of the blue, glancing down at you with a roguish grin on his lips.  
At the sudden break in silence, the only thing you could utter was, “What?”  
“At the gala. Right before we danced.” He offered helpfully.  
You rolled your eyes at him. “I was not running away.”  
“Then what exactly were you doing?” The disbelief and humour in his voice palpable. “It looked a lot like running away to me.”  
“I wasn’t running away from him, I was…” You hesitated for a moment.  
“Running to find me?” The pale light set his mischievous eyes aglow. “Seems you can’t get through a simple gala without me.”  
You crossed your arms, though quickly uncrossed them when you tripped over a root, “I’d have to say the same about you. I’m sure that’s the real reason you’d been keeping me around all this time.”  
“That’s precisely why.” You could see the smile on his face, but once again, it didn’t quite seem to match up with the usual tone you heard in his banter.  
Whatever the real reason was, you told yourself it didn’t matter. You were leaving now and that was all that mattered.  
“We’re almost there.” He continued seriously.  
You made the rest of the way in silence, and when you came to the clearing made of broken trees and mounds of displaced dirt you let out a whoop.  
Not waiting for him to follow, you ran up to it and gently touched the scraped and dented edges as if you might hurt it even more. You couldn't stop grinning, and you were trying to fight the urge to jump up and down with joy. Skipping around to the back, you found the door still open, the walkway panel left out and extended to the ground.  
Running in, you glanced around you ship and found everything exactly where you had left it, awaiting your return. Your grease stained gloves were by the door, ready for the moment you would put the piece back in and your toolbox, spilling out various tools you had hoped in vain would help fix your problem.  
You could barely believe you were here. Somehow it felt like you had just left to find the spar piece, but at the same time, as if you had been away for an eternity. A laugh bubbled out and you couldn’t believe it. You ran from side to side of your ship, touching your trinkets and memorabilia stacked along the walls like a mother hen checking on all of her chicks.  
You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice the Loki had followed you in, remaining in the doorway. There was a strange look on his face as he took in the surroundings, but you were too happy to even bother with trying to decipher the look.  
“Where’s the piece?” You asked, running over to your tools by the door, “I’ll go install it right now.”  
He took a small step toward you, shaking his head.  
Your heart dropped and shattered in your chest. “You don’t have it, do you.”  
Snapping out of his daze, he tore his eyes away from the colourful chaos of your ship and stared at you as if he had forgotten that you were at the centre of all of this chaos.  
“No, I don’t have it.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, “I already installed it. Your ship is-”  
He never got to finish his sentence, because without realizing what you were doing, your lips were on his. You only realized what you had done when nothing happened. But before you could pull back and apologize profusely by telling him that you were so happy you weren’t thinking, his hands tightened around your waist, his lips capturing yours.  
All reason vanished from your mind and you buried your fingers in his hair, combing through with your finer nails. He groaned against your lips and backed you up against the wall of your ship, scattering trinkets to the ground. He moved from your lips to your neck, hands roaming and tugging as if he couldn’t get you close enough. His long fingers dipped down and back up, playing along your thighs, your waist, your back. The clothes between the two of you suddenly felt like too much space between you. You were untangling your fingers from his hair to take off his jacket when he stopped you with his lips on yours, pressing hard and demanding entrance with his tongue. Getting the message, you left your hands where they were, tugging gently. He moaned your name, a low guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine and heat to your core.  
And then he was gone.  
You blinked your eyes open at the sudden loss of contact, trying to figure out what had just happened. He stood a few feet away, trying to appear casual with his hands stuffed into his pockets, but his hair was a mess and he was panting as hard as you were.  
There was an expression on his face unlike any you had ever seen before, conflicted, almost pained, but the longer you watched in silence, the more that look disappeared, a cold mask sliding in to replace it.  
What had happened? Why had he pulled away? Was it you? Was it him? You could tell he was fighting something inside him, something that would determine whether or not you got answers. And as much as you wanted to shake him and demand he tell you what was going on, you waited.  
“You have to leave. Now.” He ordered when his breathing returned to normal.  
You stared at him, not too sure you had heard right. “What?”  
He shrugged, “You’re getting out of Asgard tonight. Right now.”  
Although you had been waiting to hear those words since you had crashed, this wasn’t the way you wanted to hear them. Something felt wrong. You wanted to go - obviously - but why was it that a small part of you kind of wanted to stay too?  
“I don’t understand.” You finally said, unsure of what else to say.  
“I’ve repaired your ship. You’re leaving.” He motioned for you to go start your ship.  
You didn’t budge. “Loki what’s going on?”  
The sound of his name seemed to solidify his mask and he remained silent, all the fire and emotion gone from his eyes.  
“What happened?” You growled, now much more frustrated than confused, “Why now?”  
The question seemed to catch him off guard and he hesitated, sucking in a deep breath then swallowing his words.  
“Why now?” You repeated, your voice barely a whisper, knowing you were so close to getting an answer.  
The confusion vanished from his face and he became a blur of shimmering green, his Asgardian tunic replacing his Earthly clothes, and he stood a little straighter, the cocky prince replacing the real Loki you had come to like so much.  
He lifted his chin slightly, “I’m calling in your end of the deal.”  
“What?” You were starting to wonder if you could say anything else than two worded questions.  
“You were to help me when the time came,” he reminded you, “And now the time has come Midgardian. I need you off this realm.”  
“I thought…” your words trailed off.  
A cruel laugh escaped his lips, a jarring contrast to the little huff you had gotten so used to hearing - the one that had always made you want to smile too. This one only made you cold.  
“I beg your pardon,” He sneered, “You thought what?”  
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t admit aloud what you had been keeping to yourself all night. It had been stupid to even feel that way about him and you couldn’t admit to him that you had lost your wits. You may have been played for a fool, but you weren’t about to lose your pride over it too.  
You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide the fact that your body was shaking with emotion and tried for business like when you asked, “What’s the favour?”  
“Simple. I need you to escape.” He said  
“Why?” You blurted the question before you could stop yourself, “Why tonight of all nights?”  
He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed before opening them again. “Because everyone will believe that a thief tried to escape on a night when all eyes were turned from her and toward peace instead.”  
You stared at him in disbelief. “I’ll look like the villain, using peace for my own gain.”  
He shrugged. “One of us has to be.”  
You tried to leash your anger through clenched fists, never breaking eye contact. “So, what will that make you then?”  
“A stand in while Odin deals with the mess he made. After all, he was the one who decided to keep you here.” His lips curled into a vicious grin.  
“But they have no idea who I really am and what I’m doing here.” You pointed out. “They won’t care that the ambassador has left.”  
He chuckled, the sound void of real humour. “Don’t worry about that Midgardian. They will.”  
“Fine so you expose Odin’s foolhardy decision, then what Loki? Because from where I’m standing, you send them after me and I’m dead. And I did not agree to die for you or anyone else.” You snarled.  
“If you must know, you’ll have enough time to escape and find a place to lay low until it all blows over. I know a thief like you must have hiding placing in the galaxy.”  
He looked so calm, you wanted to shake him until you knew exactly what he was thinking and planning behind that cold veneer of his. You almost took a step toward him to see if anything you had imagined in the past few months was real, but you didn’t. At the same time, he seemed to take a step forward but thought better of it as well.  
“You’ll have twenty minutes Midgardian. After that, Hiemdall will be aware that your ship has left, and they will be hunting you.”  
You wanted to argue for a plan that guaranteed your safety, but you didn’t. You knew there was no plan that would ever get you safely off now. You would be exposed as an outlaw and there was no backing out. This was your best chance at escaping. It wasn’t like there was anything for you here, he had been clear about that. You had imagined all of it, and it was time you went home.  
Without another word, he spun on his heel and walked out the door, never once looking back.  
Tears burn behind your eyes, but you held them back. You weren’t going to cry over this. Not when you were expecting it all along. But you weren’t, whispered a small voice in the back of your mind, you had been a fool and had gotten swept away in all of it instead.  
You pushed that voice aside and tucked your feelings away in a place far away so that you couldn’t feel them anymore. You had to leave and you had to do it now. There was a way off this realm, but you were going to need every second you could possibly get to do it. Gulping down a shaking breath, you walked over to your seat and dropped down into the cool, familiar material. The feeling managed to partially ease that shaking feeling inside.  
Staring at your dashboard, you were unable to do anything even though you knew you had to. Everything had happened so quickly, you weren’t even sure you knew what had happened exactly. You knew you were mad, but you knew, deep down, you were also hurt. With another deep breath, you tried once again to push your feelings aside. There would be a time to go over them later. It wasn’t like your brain would stop playing the events of the night over and over again if you let it. Right now though, if you weren’t focused you weren’t going to get a chance to figure out anything at all.  
You forced your fingers to press the buttons, flip the switches and start the engine. It sputtered to life, not having liked crashing or not running for almost a year, but it pulled through. The sound wasn’t smooth, but it was steady enough you knew it would make it off the ground and to wherever you needed to take it. The prince might not care if you lived or died, but he wasn’t going to risk having the chase end quickly, so you were certain you could make it back to Earth.  
Even though you kept telling yourself that he didn’t care, an uneasy feeling in your gut told you that a small part of him had to…right? You couldn’t have imagined everything. Or had your feelings made you so blind that you had forgotten who you were dealing with? You shook your head. No. You had caught a glimpse of something real in him and you hadn’t imagined it. It didn’t matter though. It hadn’t been the side of him that had won out.  
You scolded yourself for getting so off track, rolled your shoulders back and gripped the control wheel. Earth was already preset as your destination and within moments, you were off the ground, heading off this realm for good. 

 

The prince had been right. You were almost out of Asgard when the first ship had appeared on your radar, but by then, you had known you were in the clear. Two jumps had taken you to a secret little pocket of the galaxy where you knew you would only have to wait a day before heading back to Earth unnoticed.  
Maybe it had been so easy to escape because the prince had been right about your knack for staying alive. Or maybe, just maybe - even if you hated thinking it - he had waited a little longer than he had said to expose your escape. But even that possibility did nothing to wash away your fury and leftover adrenaline.  
Hovering in your ship with not much else to do, there was nothing you could do to hold your feelings from rushing back in. You were with angry at him as you were with yourself. You couldn’t believe you had been so stupid. It was no secret that he had been planning something, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t come through with his end of the bargain. He had gotten you out of that dungeon and off of Asgard.  
Groaning, you let your head fall back, annoyed with how upset you were. The more you tried to figure out how you had gotten so caught up in everything, the more your fingers tightened around the arm rests.  
If only you could figure out what had changed. Because as far as you could tell, you weren’t the only one who had enjoyed that kiss. But you knew as hard as you tried to figure everything out, the more exhausted you would become. There was nothing you could do about it because you were missing a piece to the puzzle, and the only person who had the missing piece was the one person you were never going to see again.  
When your but was sore from being seated for so long, you stood up, and noticed a large package on the passenger seat you hadn’t seen before. It didn’t take a genius to know who the sender was, and you stared at it in hatred.  
Inside the box was a large, golden artifact, shaped like an eye with intricate designs in its lower half. You weren’t sure what it was, but you knew an artifact this big and ostentatious was worth something.  
Although a small part of you was relieved you wouldn’t be return to Earth empty handed, you held onto your anger, knowing a pretty little gift didn’t erase the hurt in your chest.  
You picked up a small note that must have fallen to the ground when you had opened the box. It read: 

_There is no real reason to go after a certain thief if she hasn’t stolen anything valuable. It is also payment due for putting said thief into those ghastly dresses. ___

__Against your better judgment, you let out a breathy laugh and flipped it to the other side._ _

____However, her daggers remain with me. _ _  
__A certain thief shouldn’t have any trouble stealing them if she would like them back. _ ______ _ ____

__________Despite everything that had happened that evening, you felt yourself smile. You could practically hear his voice, the challenge in it loud and clear.  
You would meet again.  
If it wasn’t for the explanation he sure as hell owed you, then it would be to give him the stab wound you sure as hell owed him. Either way, you had gotten his message loud and clear.  
The story wasn’t finished between the two of you.  
Really, now that you were free, it was just the beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this! It means a lot to me! The ending didn't quite take me in the direction I thought it would, but I thought it lined up with the characters. I hope you liked it too! Thanks for reading!! <3


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